Vault
by masterofall14
Summary: Sherlock cannot tell him the truth. Cannot tell his child that their world is a lie and that Monsters come at night. Cannot explain the bruises on his body. Cannot guarantee that a man named John Watson can one day make things better. Because he hasn't met him yet. Some stories cannot be told. (No knowledge of Emma Donoghue's Room is required to understand this fic)
1. Hello Jack!

_Once upon a time, you were all alone, with only Chain and TV for company and you were like a zombie. But one day Strip Light flickered and sparked and I came shooting down and crashed onto rug, CRASH! And you cut the cord and said, "Hello, Jack!"_

Two figures lie facing each other, curled up in a double bed. The smallest blinks open his eyes and yawns, before sitting up and smiling down at his bedmate. Pushing his long hair away from his face, he says, "Pa, I'm five!"

His whispering draws a chuckle from the other person, who ensnares him in a fierce hug and rolls onto his back. "You're five! You're so old now!"

"Yep!"

"Come on then, time to get up."

Jack rolls off Pa and drops to his knees to look under the bed. "Good morning, Eggsnake! Good morning, Bed! Good morning, Plant! Good morning, Sink!" He slowly makes his way around the room. "Good morning, Telly! Good morning, Rug! Good morning, Toilet!" He doesn't notice the look of despair etched across his roommate's face. "It's my birthday!"

Sherlock drops a cereal packet onto the table. "Yes, I get it," he grumbles. They take their usual chairs and sit down, Jack pulling up one of his legs and tucking it under his body. They face each other, as they always do, twenty-four hours every day.

"Take you vitamin, it's the last one," says Sherlock, tipping it out into his hand and holding it out to Jack, who takes it happily.

"Vitamin!" he squeals, holding it up like a trophy, before popping it into his mouth. Sherlock smiles at him, then winces as he takes a bite of breakfast and cups his jaw, groaning. Jack watches him with all the concern of a five-year-old.

"Is bad tooth hurting?"

"Yes, but you know, Mind over Matter," says Sherlock, tapping his temple with his forefinger.

Jack grins, delighted. "If you don't mind then it doesn't matter!"

Sherlock stares lovingly at his son, before shoveling more food into his mouth. They finish their meal in silence.

888

 _Most days are the same, but some are different. The same days have routine. Pa wakes me up at eight o'clock and I say hello to Room. Then we have breakfast and we count the pieces of cereal to get our share, before choosing what clothes we're going to wear. I have more clothes than Pa. Pa can't wear trousers because of Chain. We both have three T-shirts, but mine are starting to get small because I've grown so much. That's why it's my birthday. Pa doesn't have any jumpers, but I do. Pa has two pants but I have four. Because I'm the littlest, I have more clothes and more food than Pa._

 _After dressing we do exercises and running. Pa makes me run all around Room as fast as I can, which is difficult because Room goes so far from one end to another. Pa can't run because of Chain, but he's the best at stretching. Then Pa makes lunch while I watch TV and practice de-duc-tion. After lunch we make Eggsnake longer by adding more shells. He's so big now, he's taller than Pa. Maybe one day he'll be as big as Room. After that, Pa scrubs Room to make it all clean and he washes our clothes. Pa says cleaning Room helps us stay healthy, like vitamins and toothbrush._

 _At two o'clock, Pa sleeps for an hour because he's always tired. He says I'm too little to understand, but now I'm five, I'm old enough. While Pa naps, I practice hiding from monsters. When he wakes up at three o'clock, we play de-duc-tion games. I have to put my thinking cap on and try and guess if Pa is lying or telling truth. I'm so good now, I'm as clever as Pa! Then we watch more TV, but not too much or my eyes will go square. Then I have a bath and Pa does my hair because it's so long, but he always gets bubbles everywhere. Pa cooks dinner and I play with my dog, Redbeard, to make time go faster. After dinner, Pa puts my pajamas on and tells me stories about pirates and the name of some bones in my body. Once dinner has gone down, he tucks me up in wardrobe and I have to promise no peeping whilst he washes. And then, at same time on all Same Days with routine, Door opens and They come in. There's two of them. They talk with Pa. They whisper and then it all goes quiet. Most times I fall asleep and when I wake up, Pa has put me back in Bed and he has even more bruises on his legs and arms. Pa always hurts himself a lot. Clumsy Old Pa._

"Do you know what we're going to do today?" asks Sherlock, watching Jack with anticipation. The small boy shakes his head. "We are going to bake a birthday cake."

Jack gasps, his eyes bright. "Like on TV?"

"Just like TV. Do you thing you can help me?"

"Hm hm," nods Jack.

"Okay. You grab the eggs and I'll get the oven ready. We need to do this right."

"Have you ever baked cake before, Pa?"

"No, I have not, but I do believe it's simple chemistry. Grab the butter too, please."

It's messy. They get flour everywhere and it takes a while to clean up afterwards. Jack kneels on a chair and washes up whilst Sherlock cleans the floor and dusts off Rug. A delicious smell soon circulates around Room. After checking the cake multiple times, Sherlock eventually smiles.

"Sit down and close your eyes. No peeping."

"No peeping," promises Jack and covers his face with his hands.

There's the sound of movement and Chain rattles as Pa approaches. The clonk as something is put down in front of him. "Open your eyes, Jack"

Jack stares in wonder at the cake; his first birthday cake! Then disappointment grips him. "Where are the candles and lights?" he asks.

Pa's satisfied expression drops. "We don't have any, Jack, you know that," he swallows. "Please Jack, we have to be grateful for what we've got. We can't have everything they have on TV. You're a big boy now, you're old enough to understand," he licks his lips nervously. "Now, this cake is a special treat because it's got sugar and other ingredients in it that I'm not too keen about shoving down your intestines, not to mention damaging your teeth. This is a very special treat, Jack. I haven't had cake since before you were born. What do we always say?"

"Appreciate what you have." Mumbles Jack.

"Exactly." Pa strokes Jack's hair. "Come on now, I'll cut you a slice."

"I'm sorry, Pa."

"That's OK. Here you go, tell me if it tastes like rat poison."

"Pa! S'not funny!" They laugh.


	2. Same Inside and Out

_Even on Same Days we do different things. Pa says we have to keep our brains active or they'll rot. Maybe Brain leaks out of ears if it rots. Pa says Brain is clever like a hard drive, but I don't really know what that means. When I was four, Pa helped me build my Mind Palace. Pa's Palace is really complicated so he explained to me how to build a simple one. Mine has a wardrobe where I put important information, just like Wardrobe in Room, but bigger. Pa said he's going to teach me how to read and write, just like the Not-Real children on TV when they go to school. I'm going to learn the Per-i-odic table and maybe one day I'll be able to do experiments, but only if we're allowed. We have to follow the rules or Chain will hurt Pa's leg even more._

 _Sometimes, on TV, people don't speak English. I want to learn other languages so I can be clever, like Pa._

 _We do other activities too, like dancing. Pa is teaching me how to waltz. I dance well, like Pa. We're very the same on the inside, but we don't look the same on the outside. I can also count to one thousand and I know the alphabet forwards and backwards. Sometimes we play pirates together and Pa is the captain and we make swords with tin foil and I pretend Table is the plank and I jump into Pa's arms and I'm all safe and sound._

 _We watch TV shows and Pa helps me guess who is lying and who is telling truth. I play same game with Pa too but it's more difficult with TV people because I can't ask them questions. Pa says I'm good but I think he lets me win._

 _We do so much on Same Days that the muchness is tiring sometimes and makes me sleepy. That's why I fall asleep so quickly in Wardrobe, even if I don't want to. I want to listen to Pa talking to Them, but he doesn't want me to hear. Old Magnussen has a soft voice and the Wicked Witch always sounds angry. I haven't told Pa, but I'm a bit scared of Them._

"Pa, why are we the same on inside, but not on outside?" asks Jack, curious.

Pa stops what he's doing and looks thoughtful. He sits down next to Jack on Bed. "What makes you think we're different?"

Jack holds up a strand of his long hair. "My hair is brown, but yours is dark." He says. "My hair has grown down my back and it's wavy, but yours is very short. Your eyes are blue but mine are brown and your face is different shape."

"Your face will change shape as you get older, Jack." Explains Sherlock. "When I was your age, my face was round like yours. And as for my hair," he runs his hand over his head where it's cut military style, "My hair gets cut regularly, so it never gets to grow, but I know that it can be wavy, just like yours, curly even if I don't brush it." He smiles. "And you're pale like me and you're the same as me on the inside." He wraps his arms around his son and pulls him close. "So really, there's very little difference between us."

"But I have the best nose in the family."

"Yes, you do, but only because it's still a baby's nose."

"Does old Magnussen cut you hair, Pa?"

Sherlock freezes. "You know you're not supposed to talk about him, Jack."

But why do They cut your hair, but not mine?"

"Because They don't like my curls-" Sherlock bites his tongue mid-sentence. "Because that's the rule. Otherwise, Chain gets tighter. They also shave my face so that I don't grow a beard. But They never see you, so They don't know what you look like."

"And I look like you, inside and out."

Sherlock kisses the top of his head. Yes, you do."

That night, the door opens and They come in. Jack sits up in Wardrobe and peeps through crack-in-the-door. He can see Old Magnussen's face and the Wicked Witch's back. He tries to understand what they are saying.

"Is this a birthday cake?"

"Yes. It's Jack's birthday."

"You should have told us," says the Witch, "we would have got him something. How old is he now, four?" She cuts herself a large slice of cake and shovels it into her mouth. Sherlock grips the side of the table and turns his back to them. He doesn't answer.

" _Five_." Whispers Jack.

"Why don't you have a seat?" says Sherlock, trying to sound polite.

"Thank you." Replies Old Magnussen and he sits down. "How is the boy?"

"Fine. Healthy."

"Is he asleep?"

"I think so. He should be."

"Good." They dust the crumbs off onto the floor he'd cleaned earlier that day. That makes Jack cross. He doesn't want them to spoil Pa's hard work.

"Take off your clothes." Says the Witch.

Sherlock moves out of Jack's sight and They follow him. Jack lies back down with a huff and counts sheep to fall asleep. When he opens his eyes again, he's in Bed and Pa has a new bruise on his right arm. Jack doesn't know how it happens. It just does.


	3. Sweet Dreams

**Some non-graphic non-con in this chapter people. Not much else for the rest of this story.**

 _Some things are real and some things aren't. Pa and I, we're the Realest Real things. My dog, Redbeard, he's real, but only in my Mind Palace. Plant is real, but trees aren't. People on TV aren't real because they're flat and made of colours. Everything inside Room is real. I don't know about Old Magnussen and the Wicked Witch. Pa calls them that because he says they're very powerful, but I don't think they're as powerful as Pa, because they're only half real. Pa means everything to me. Without him, I wouldn't exist. That makes him the realest thing in Room. If I existed without Pa, I would cry all the time. Pa is my whole life. I love him. That's why he was so lonely before me._

 _I think Pa gets confused sometimes. He forgets what's real and what isn't. Pa likes to sit on bed with his eyes tight shut and hold his arms in the air. When I ask him what he's doing, he tells me he's practising playing the violin. Violins only exist on TV, but Pa is clever because he can play it, even though it's not real._

 _I don't like it when Pa is awake while I sleep. When I sleep I go to another place and I'm always with Pa, so how can he be awake in Room? I asked Pa but he laughed and told me I'm silly. He says we're always in Room, even when we sleep. He says it's like going to Mind Palace when we're awake, except we can't control it in sleep. He says sleep is boring and he'd rather be awake with me. Pa doesn't like his dreams. Mine are full of Pa and Pirates and adventures. I don't know why Pa doesn't have the same dreams as me. I wish he could because then he would be happy, always._

 _I want Pa to tell Them to get me a birthday present like a dog or books, I've never had a book. I have Redbeard in my Mind Palace, but never books. Then Pa can teach me to read and I'll be clever, because I'm five. Old Magnussen and the Witch must be nice if they want to get me a present. Maybe Pa is wrong about Them, even if they're voices are scary. I'm a big boy now, so I mustn't be scared anymore._

"Why don't you let Them get me a present, Pa?"

Sherlock tosses his brush into the bucket full of hot water in frustration. "You shouldn't be listening to that, Jack."

"But I want a present. I've never had a present before, only the ones you make me. I want a dog, like Redbeard."

"We can't have a dog, there's not enough room… I mean space, there's not enough space in Room for a dog. And I can't just ask for things, Jack, because They always want something in return."

"Like what?"

Sherlock pales considerably. "Don't you ever ask me that again." He grits out, infuriated.

"But you said you'd teach me stuff and we need books for that. Please, Pa, you promised." Implores Jack, undeterred.

"YOU'RE NOT GETTING A PRESENT, JACK, AND THAT'S FINAL!" barks Sherlock, slamming his hand on Table and they both freeze as what he has just said sets in. Jack's bottom lip quivers and he bursts into tears.

"No, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no." Sherlock stands up from his chair and gathers his son in his arms. "I'm sorry, Jack. Please don't cry. I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry." He walks backwards towards Bed and sits his son on his lap. "You're right, I did promise you. I promised and I should never break my promise." He sighs. "I'll do my best, alright? I'll do my best. I love you. I'm sorry." He rolls onto his side and tucks Jack under his chin and curls around him, just like he used to when Jack was an infant. "Stop crying now. Shhh. Stop crying. I love you."

"I-I want a present." Sobs Jack.

"I know. You're such a good boy and you've never had a proper one before." He runs his hand over his face before burying his nose in Jack's hair. "But this might be the only present you get. Do you understand that, Jack? This cannot be a regular thing. They won't do it for us very often. Okay?"

Jack nods and Sherlock can feel his T-shirt getting wet. He stares blankly at the wall long after Jack has drifted off into a fitful sleep, fearing the consequences of what he's about to do.

Old Magnussen watches him and Sherlock knows he's being deduced down to the last detail. He's known for thirteen years. "Something's bothering you." Says the man, glancing at his companion, then back at Sherlock. "Care to share?"

Sherlock tries not to think derogatory thoughts. He was good at hiding from Mycroft, but not this man. "Jack overheard our conversation last night." He says, getting straight to the point. The quicker it's over, the better. "Particularly the part where you offered to get him a present."

Old Magnussen rolls his head slowly. Anyone would think he was bored, but Sherlock knows otherwise. "Oh." He says, smiling sadistically. "And?"

Sherlock breathes out through his nose and stares him down. It's the only victory he can get in his current situation. "I was hoping Jack could have some books. I'd like to start educating him."

The Witch snorts. "What for?" she laughs, "He's not going anywhere!"

Sherlock's heart misses a beat. He can tell they're planning something, but he doesn't know what. He attempts to squash down the rising panic. "Jack is smart. He's curious and inquisitive." His voice shakes. "He's also a little boy who would like a present."

There's a long silence. Old Magnussen drums his fingers on Table. The Witch plays with her hair. Sherlock counts to forty-two before he gets a reply. "And what do we get in return?" is the unsurprising question. Sherlock swallows before facing the Witch. This is routine; this is what he has to do to show his submission. He spreads his legs slightly, head bowed before looking at her directly in the eye. "Me." He replies, the unsurprising answer. But what happens next takes him completely off guard.

The Witch looks at Old Magnussen. "I believe you were tired of the passenger seat." She grins. "It's your go." She glances back at Sherlock. "Face him, not me."

All of Sherlock's thoughts come crashing to a halt. "I'm sorry?" he stammers, eyes flicking from one to the other. They sigh.

"You're exceptionally slow today, Sherlock." Says Old Magnussen, undoing his belt. "Now be a good boy and take off your clothes, there's a good chap."

Sherlock stares horrified as he pulls off his belt. "But you've never…"

"Oh, I know I've never." Breathes Old Magnussen as he unbuttons his trousers. But after thirteen years of watching, I think I've deserved my go."

Alarm bells start to ring. Sherlock can feel his Mind Palace go into overdrive. "But I've never…"

"Oh, I know you've never either," laughs the man, "but from what I've heard, it's like learning to ride a bicycle. You spend weeks with injuries from falling off and the rest of your life enjoying the ride. Now. Take. Off. Your. Clothes."

Sherlock shakes his head. His legs have gone numb. "I can't."

"Would you like me to wake up your son?" asks the Witch, "Or perhaps you'd like a chain around your neck as well?"

"No," gasps Sherlock, finding his voice, "Please, no, not Jack. Don't you dare touch Jack." He stands. "I'll do it," he chokes out, "I'll do whatever you want."

He doesn't remember taking his clothes off. He's suddenly on his back on Bed. He grunts in surprise as someone flips him over, his face pressed against the pillow. He forgets his promise and panics.

"Hold him down," snaps Old Magnussen, "He's no good to me like this."

The burly woman's strong arms hold his face against the pillow and he can't breathe. "For Jack," he thinks over his mental cries of help me, help me, help me. "I'm doing this for Jack. I'm keeping my promise." He enters his Mind Palace.

"Breathe, little Brother," says a Mycroft, who hasn't aged in thirteen years. "Turn your head and find air. Breathe the Easterly wind, brother mine," his smile distorts his face. "I taught you better, Sherlock. You should have guessed his plans the moment he walked in. It was obvious by the way he had the top button of his shirt undone."

Sherlock wants to scream at him, but there's no sound. He chokes on his pillow and pants for breath. His eyes water and he bites his tongue in desperation to keep quiet. "For Jack," he tells himself. "JackJackJackJackJackJackJack…" Sherlock tries not to analyse anything and keeps still. He doesn't react when his arms and neck are released. He closes his eyes and ignores the tears that drip into his pillow. He can hear Him putting his clothes back on, but he doesn't move. He doesn't want to attract their attention.

"Well," says the older man nonchalantly, like they've just shared a coffee and are parting ways. "Thanks for that. I'll see what I can do about the present. And don't worry, your performance was exquisite for a beginner," he pats Sherlock's leg. "We'll be back tomorrow to shave your face. Sweet dreams." And They're gone.

For half an hour, Sherlock doesn't move. The reality of his situation doesn't set in until he hears Jack stir in Wardrobe. Panic grips him and he stumbles over to Bath, only too aware of the pain flaring up his backside. It takes colossal effort, but he eventually sinks into the tub, wincing as the hot water burns his injuries. He scrubs himself clean vigorously. He doesn't cry. Jack will know if he's cried. Once he's rid the air of the foul smell and rearranged Bed, he picks up Jack and tucks him in without waking him. He lays there for hours, staring up at the Strip Light they can never switch off.

Next morning, Jack stares at the bruises on his neck and arms. "Clumsy Old Pa," he says. They laugh.


	4. Learning

_Two days after asking for present, I wake up without Pa in Bed. I sit up to look for him and he is sat in Chair number two. He is staring strangely at the wall. He turns to look at me. I see a big box on Table. My present! Pa got me a present! I jump out of Bed so fast, I'm quicker than ever before. I reach Table and touch the box. I've never seen one so big! Pa tells me to open it, so I do but really slowly, because I want it to last. Pa and I say 'Appreciate what you have'. I must make present last forever. I pull sticky stuff off slowly and open the lid. I kneel on Chair number one so I can see inside. There are so many books, my eyes almost pop out of their sockets! I run to Pa and pull him over to the box so he can see better. We pull out ten books and some pencils and crayons. I can't read yet, so I ask him what the books say. Pa tells me that there's an encyclopedia for children and spelling books. There's also math and science and activities, but the best one is the big book. Pa says there are stories in it to last a whole year. Pa is so excited, he grabs my hands and we waltz as far as Chain will let us. We laugh and I hug Pa and I thank him for asking Them to get me presents. He goes very quiet and hugs me back. I think he is too happy to talk._

 _Pa makes me wait until after lunch before we can start school. He says he has to get ready to teach me, so he spends morning getting lessons ready. He writes with a pen, but Pa says he has trouble because he hasn't used one in a while. He uses a stick called a ruler and does some drawings on the paper that came in the box. I nag him until he gets cross and he tells me to practise hiding from monsters._

 _I like this game. Pa shouts "Monsters!" and I have to run all the way to Wardrobe, all seven steps and I have to lock myself in until Pa says "Safe!". The monsters aren't real, just like pirates aren't real, but games are still my favourite things to do. Until lessons._

 _Time passes slow like a snail and I get cross with it. Pa gives me his watch and I stare at it. There are lots of seconds in a minute and even more in an hour. Pa says use time wisely, so I practice running around Room. After thirty circles I am tired and I lay on Bed to catch my breath. I hold it in my lungs until I almost burst. I make noises with my mouth until Pa says I'm driving him up the wall. I ask him which wall and he laughs. Then we have baked beans for lunch and Pa tells me he's ready._

"Right," says Sherlock, stretching, "Come here, young man. I'm going to walk you to school."

"But we're in Room, Pa."

"Yes, we are. But you see, from now on, Bed is home and Table is school," he takes Jack's hand, "are you ready?"

"Yep!"

"Here we go. Let's cross the road," they take two steps forward, "Now we turn right down this alley and we reach another road. We have to watch out for cars. Look left, look right and we cross. Through the park, can you see the squirrels in the trees? Look out!" They jump to one side.

"WHOOSH!"

"Phew! That boy on the skateboard was fast. Have to watch out for them. And now we're in school. Ready to learn?"

"Yes!"

"Brilliant," Sherlock watches Jack with a look of pride on his face. They share a smile, "Let's get learning."

While Sherlock knows that his son's attention span is impressive for his age, he also knows that he can't push his luck too far. After two hours of simple equations, learning to spell letters and reading, Sherlock calls it a day. They put everything away in the box and push it under Bed, mindful not to squash Eggsnake. Then an idea crosses Sherlock's mind and he pulls the box back out and scribbles 'Jack's school box' on the side. Jack stares at the way his name is spelt and files it away in his Mind Palace. He takes a piece of paper out and puts it in Wardrobe for later.

When he looks back at Pa, Sherlock is sat down on the edge of Bed, his eyelids drooping, even more tired than he usually is at this time of day.

Jack sighs. "Why are you always son tired, Pa? You sleep more than me."

Sherlock cracks one eye open and peers sleepily at his son. He appears to weigh up his options and considers the most appropriate answer he can give. Then he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his finger tips and looking Jack in the eye.

"Do you remember what I told you about Chain?" he asks.

"Yes, you said Chain was your punishment for trying to leave Room, before I was born."

"That's right. I tried to leave Room because you weren't here yet and I was lonely and sad. I was-" he pauses as he gives his answer more thought. "I was jealous because Old Magnussen and the Witch could leave Room together and I… I wanted company. Sometimes I got very angry at Them and I tried to fight Them. Even with Chain I would fight Them. So one day, to help me, after you were born, they gave me tablets that I still have to take."

"Just like my vitamins. Except you swallow yours with water."

"A bit like vitamins, yes. But whereas yours keep you full of energy and healthy, mine make me tired and unable to fight back, or at least, not as much. Do you understand?"

Jack mulls over this new information, processing it and putting it on a shelf in his Mind Palace. "But you don't need to fight anymore, Pa, because you've got me. That way you won't have to take bad tablets anymore."

Sherlock stares at him sadly. "I have to, Jack. Let's just say Chain knows if I haven't and he'll get tighter. But that's not the problem."

"What is the problem?" asks Jack, innocently.

Sherlock presses his lips into a fine line, looking more upset than Jack had ever seen him. "It's not me I'm worried about," he rolls sideways and turns his back to his son, "Don't ask me anymore, Jack."

"But, Pa, who are you worried about?" Jack ponders what his Pa has said and the expressions on his face and tries to deduce. He reaches a strange conclusion. "Why are you worried about me, Pa?" But Sherlock is already asleep.

 _I put everything Pa has told me in my Mind Palace, for storing. Lots of things don't make sense. Pa is always careful and I never see him hurt himself, so where do bruises come from? Not from sleep. And if Pa can dance so well, how can he be so clumsy? Answer: Need more data. For the past two days, Pa has had more trouble moving around than usual. He is sadder and cross. He looks away when I look at him. He is afraid for me. Perhaps he thinks Chain will get me too? But I won't have Chain around my leg, because I will never try to leave Room. I don't want to be half-real like Old Magnussen and the Witch._

 _I take my piece of paper to wardrobe and my dictionary and I try to spell. When Pa wakes up, I show him my paper. It says 'Jack's Mind Palace'. Pa tells me how proud he is and we pin it inside Wardrobe. I'm learning fast._


	5. Sleep Tight

**Jack sees something Sherlock cannot protect him from. Angst ahead. No non-con**

 _Evening comes and Pa looks scared. I try to make him laugh by playing Jack-in-a-Wardrobe but he doesn't smile much. I usually help him make dinner, but tonight he pushes me away and says I'm allowed to play instead. I pull my encyclopedia out of my school box and look at the pictures. I don't know why Pa asked Them for this, because most of the things in this book aren't real. Maybe it's for me to learn the names of all the objects that we see on TV. There are so many things in this big book, that I don't know all of them. I look up at Pa to ask him if all these things exist on TV and I see him holding his bad tablet box, which is strange because he only needs it in the morning._

 _He makes scrambled eggs, but we don't have much food so he makes cheese on toast to go with it, but just for me. Pa always gives me the most food. He's worried about me because he thinks I'm skinny, but I can see all of Pa's ribs and other bones. When I hug him I can feel them all. I wonder if I'll be that skinny when I'm older. We sit down to eat and Pa gives me the whole lot and only puts three spoonfuls on his plate. He eats very slowly to make it last longer. Pa makes me do the same, or I'll get sick if I swallow too fast. He keeps looking at me like he's waiting for something, so I talk to make him feel better. I ask if we can put all the new egg shells on Eggsnake, after dinner and Pa smiles and says yes._

 _"Do you think he'll be as big as Room one day, Pa? Will he take up all of space?_

 _Pa has a think. "Maybe one day, but it will take a very long time."_

 _"That's true. Room does go on for ever and ever," I stop talking while I swallow my food because I'm not allowed to talk with my mouthful because it's rude, even though Pa does it all the time. He says he's always been rude, even before I was born, but to be a good Pa, he has to teach me manners. We both think manners are dull. I don't know why we need them. "What happens when there's no space left because of Eggsnake and we can't breathe?"_

 _Pa laughs. "That won't happen. We don't use that many eggs."_

 _"But we're going to live in Room forever and ever, until we're dead. That's a long time."_

 _Pa looks shocked, then he looks sad. He says very quietly, "Yes, I suppose we will," and finishes his egg. Once we've washed up, we turn on TV and pull Eggsnake out from under Bed. My eyes start drooping, but I don't know why because it's too early. I fall sideways and Pa catches me._

 _"I'm sorry, Jack," he says. "I'm sorry, but it's for your own good. I wish there were another way." But I'm already fast asleep._

Sherlock carries his sleeping child over to Wardrobe and tucks him in the blankets. He closes the doors and tidies up, making sure Room is spotless, or as much as it can be. Then he sits on the edge of Bed and breathes in regularly, maintaining his calm. Tonight won't be pleasant. If he has deduced Them correctly, then he has done the right thing. He can only hope he hasn't harmed Jack by drugging him. The tablets aren't meant for children.

As he waits for their nightly visit, he mulls aver what Jack said that evening. Like him, Jack has no problem with death, but he doesn't know how small Room truly is. If he grows to be as tall as Sherlock, then they'll struggle. And Jack will only want to know more as he gets bigger. But one day They'll consider him old enough to be a threat and the rules that apply to Sherlock will apply to Jack too. How long before they're both chained up?

An image of Jack with a chain around his leg much like his own, burns itself into his mind and Sherlock can't shake it loose. He can imagine their future in Room easily: Himself and Jack, chained up and starved, beaten regularly until the weakest dies. That would be him. He would give Jack all their food and take the brunt of all the beatings if it meant protecting Jack from physical or sexual abuse. But then what? Jack would be all alone and terrified. And Sherlock would have failed everything he's worked so hard for. He would have failed Jack.

When he was growing up, he never thought of himself as capable of being a father. He had been raised in a cold and distant family. Mycroft had always said the family motto was 'Caring is a disadvantage'. Their parents had loved them in their own strange way, but Sherlock had always known that he simply wasn't equipped to settle down with a wife, child and dog. He'd been too smart, too interested in his experiments and what he'd called the Science of Deduction to care about that. But then he'd been locked in Room and Jack had been born. Sherlock can only hope that he's done right by Jack. Would his parents be proud?

But that doesn't matter. What matters is his plan. Drug Jack and continue to keep Their focus on himself. If he was wrong in his deductions, which was desirable yet inconceivable, then They won't even think of Jack this evening and life can continue as normal. But that would be too good to be true. And he couldn't risk drugging jack again. He has to get Their attention back on himself. There was no other option.

A series of beeps ring out as the six-digit code is tapped in to open the door. They talk as They come in, finishing a conversation.

"I told him to park the pick-up in the driveway, while he's clearing the garden for the next week. I kept the keys."

"Good," They turn their attention to him, "Good evening, Sherlock. A glass of water would be nice."

Sherlock nods and fills up two plastic cups at the sink. The silence behind him indicates he's being watched. He takes a breath and turns around to face Them and hands Them their cups. They've sat down on the only two chairs, so Sherlock sits down on the edge of Bed. They eye him up and down and Sherlock returns their gaze. The Witch tuts.

"You haven't been eating very well, Sherlock. That T-shirt was big, but not that big on you."

He has to keep the conversation away from Jack. "I'm not very hungry," he mentally slaps himself. Is that the best he can come up with?

"You're sure it's not a certain boy eating all the food?"

Sherlock swallows and doesn't answer.

"Where is he anyway?" asks Old Magnussen, glancing around with an air of nonchalance. "I expected him to be here to thank us for his present."

Sherlock cocks his head. "The thought of the boy usually aggravates you. We don't want to involve him in our… business." He's ignored.

"Why don't you get him out? I'm sure he'd like to meet us. I'm eager to see how he's grown. And I do believe it's time for him to… earn his keep." His smile is sickening.

Sherlock's blood runs cold. So he did deduce Them correctly. His asking for a present for Jack reignited an interest in Them. He feels sick. This is all his fault. All he can do is divert Their attention. He's not a religious man, but he's close to praying at this point.

"I'm afraid Jack isn't available this evening. Or any other evening for that matter." His heart pounds in his chest.

A look of surprise crosses Old Magnussen's face, "You've drugged him."

"You can't have him. I won't let you touch him."

They stare at him. The Witch is shaking with uncontrolled rage, the only thing stopping her is the raised hand of her partner. Then she turns and storms over to Wardrobe. Sherlock is on his feet without making the conscious decision to do so.

"Don't you fucking dare," he snarls, "I told you the other night: You have me. You have all of me. Hell, you practically own me. A terrified, crying child won't interest you. A man you hand-selected and snatched off the street will. Do what you want with me. Do what you've always done with me. I'll be far more entertaining."

She plows into him before he's had the chance to realise she's moved. Her comrade isn't far behind her and They wrestle him onto his stomach. He fights back just enough to hold their attention, yet not enough for Them to threaten Jack. He has to get the balance right. He has to keep Them occupied.

A hand grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls his head back. She spits in his ear. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll-"

"Pa?"

Three heads whip around to face the source of this question. Wardrobe's door is open and Jack is standing outside, facing the three of them. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and stares at the three adults curiously, uncomprehendingly. "Pa?"

The Witch sits up slowly, her eyes never leaving Jack's face. Their brown eyes lock. She grins, "Hello, son."

Sherlock shakes his right arm loose and succeeds in elbowing her in the stomach. "Jack!" he screams, "Monsters! MONSTERS!"

 _I'm really scared. I don't understand what's going on. I fell asleep too early so I came back out of Wardrobe. I didn't realise They were there. I'm not supposed to come out of Wardrobe when They're in Room. It looks like They're hurting Pa. He starts to yell The Word, so I run back to Wardrobe and block the doors, just in time as someone else starts banging on them. I cry because I'm scared and there's lots of shouting. The door rattles as someone tries to pull it open. Pa is shouting at Them loudly and I hear lots of bad words. There's a loud THUMP! And another THUMP! And Pa goes very quiet. I hear Them talking, arguing and They leave. I'm too scared to leave Wardrobe again, so I wait for Pa to say "Safe!" but I hear nothing. I think Pa is cross with me, so I run out of Wardrobe and say "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I came out of Wardrobe!"_

 _Pa is lying on Bed, his arm dangling onto the floor and he doesn't move when I call him. I shake him but he doesn't wake up. I start to panic but I remember what he taught me and I check his pulse at his wrist and neck. I thing They bashed his head. I pull Blanket over him and crawl under it next to him. I stare at Pa's watch. After three minutes, he groans and starts to move. He calls my name and I cry and tell him I'm sorry. We hug tightly and Pa is shaking. I start to feel sleepy again, but suddenly Strip Light makes a PING! Noise. We look at it until suddenly Fridge stops humming and Strip Light dies and Room goes black. I've never seen so much black before. Pa rocks me and tells me not to panic. He says They've turned off the power to Room as punishment. I don't know what that means, but I can't see anything. Pa says we'll have to stay still until power comes back on. I'm very tired, so I sleep._

 _When I wake, Strip Light is alive again, but Pa says we have no other power or water. Room is very cold and I shiver. I can see my breath when I breathe. I wrap myself in blankets. Pa is sat on the floor and he is pulling hard on Chain, trying to rip it out of wall. He is very desperate. Then he looks at me. He stands up. He says he's going to tell me the story of Pa and the truth about Room._


	6. The Detective and his World

Sherlock sits down next to Jack and rubs the palm of his hands together to keep them warm. He shivers in his thin T-shirt. "I've never told you my name, Jack. I'm called Sherlock. My surname is Holmes."

Jack bites his lip and thinks this over. "But you're Pa."

Sherlock smiles patiently. "Yes, but my name is Sherlock, just like your name is Jack. That's what my parents named me when I was born. My parents are your grandparents."

Jack looks confused. "You have more than one?"

Sherlock twiddles his thumbs nervously. "Yes, I have a father… and a mother. A mother is a lady. I grew inside her tummy before I was born."

"Do I have a mother? Did your parents live in Room too?"

Sherlock ignores the first question. "No, Jack, my parents never lived in Room. I wasn't born here. Old Magnussen and the Witch brought me here when I was sixteen years old."

"Where were you before?"

"I lived in a house with my parents and older brother."

"Like on TV?"

"No, Jack, for real, in a real house with a garden and I went to a real school with real people. The people on TV are real, Jack, they're being filmed, that's why we can see them, that's why everyone can see them."

"But it's not real, Pa."

"Yes it is, Jack, I promise you, everything is real. Where do you think Old Magnussen and the Witch go when They leave Room? They go back into their house. Room is a part of Their house, it's a part of Appledore."

"Does everyone live in a Room?"

"No, Jack, it's only us. We're not supposed to be here," he swallows and looks Jack in the eye, "We're prisoners, Jack. We're being controlled. It's Them that make the rules, but They're not allowed to. If I hadn't been kidnapped, neither of us would be here."

Jack pulls on his ponytail. "But we're supposed to be in Room because Room is real. You're not making sense, Pa."

Sherlock rubs his face in frustration. "No, Jack. The people we deduce on TV, they're real. Room is inside Appledore. Room isn't just a room, Jack. Room is a vault. We're being locked and kept in a vault. That's why only They can open the door."

"Are we locked in a vault for safety?"

"No. We're locked in a vault because They're cruel people and They enjoy hurting me. That's why I'm telling this. We have to prepare ourselves."

"Why aren't They allowed?"

"It's against the law. If the police knew we were here, they would rescue us. Your uncle Mycroft would rescue us. I've tried to escape numerous times, but there are two of Them and Old Magnussen, he's very careful and incredibly intelligent. That's how he was able to trick me in the first place."

"I have an uncle?" asks Jack, enthusiastically.

"Yes. You have a grandmother, a grandfather and an uncle. And if they met you, they would love you very much indeed," he sighs, "but that's not the point, Jack. Anyway-"

"Is my uncle real?"

"Jack!" snaps Sherlock, "forget Mycroft for a moment and just listen. I'm going to tell you a story, okay? Just listen," he takes a deep breath. "A long time ago, when I was little, I wanted to be a detective."

"You said you wanted to be a pirate," interrupts Jack.

"Well after that, I wanted to be a detective. But not an ordinary detective, no, I wanted to be a consulting detective, the first one in the world. The only one in the world. I was going to invent the job. But to start, I had to solve a case. My first one didn't go as well as planned. A boy drowned in a swimming pool, which is like a bath but bigger, but his shoes were missing. I talked with the police, but no one listened to me," his expression was faraway and wistful. "I never did get to solve it. I imagine it's still a cold case. But anyway, I didn't give up my dream. I started putting out ads, talking to people, trying to get someone to notice me, to let me solve their problems. And one day, a woman contacted me from America. She'd heard about me through her sister and she needed my help. She wanted me to prove that her husband was guilty of the crime he was on trial for. He was abusive and she wanted him to be executed, to get him out of her life." Again, his smile was wistful. "Mrs. Hudson was a lovely lady. It took me two months, but eventually I found the evidence necessary and long story short, Mr. Hudson received the death sentence. And I was in the newspaper and all other media for my exploits. I'd proven everyone wrong, especially my family. I could do it."

"What happened next?"

Sherlock's expression turns to stone. "That's when it all went wrong."

"Why?"

"For a while afterwards I felt as though I was being followed. At first I thought my brother had increased his surveillance on me."

"I like your dreams, Pa."

Sherlock blinks and does a double-take. "Sorry, what? What are you talking about, what dreams?"

"The dream you're telling me now. I wish my dreams were as good as yours."

Sherlock pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "This is real. Please let me finish. It's important," he grits out impatiently. "I thought I was being followed. But it wasn't my brother. It was Old Magnussen and the Witch. The Witch… wanted a 'friend' and she chose me. I looked physically appealing to Her and They were both interested in my intellect, so They contacted me. Sent me a letter telling me They wanted my help solving a case the police hadn't been able to handle, a violent murder. And I was so desperate to show off, to prove how clever I am that I rushed off to meet Them without thinking. I told my mother I was going to London to meet some clients. It wasn't far from where we lived. When I got there, They were waiting for me," he shakes his head, recalling his own stupidity. "He reached out to shake my hand, saying stuff about how They were my biggest fans. Then he stuck a needle in my arm and she shoved a bag over my head," he pauses, sadness etched across his face like paint, "and then I was here. Taken away from my life and my future to be locked in a vault against my will. So young and stupid. I never wanted to be here, Jack."

"I don't like this story."

"You have to believe me, this is the truth, this is reality, this is who I was before Room."

Jack pouts, "I want another story."

"Let's put it this way. What do people put in vaults? Secrets. And where do people hide their deepest, darkest vault full of secrets? In the recesses of their minds. That's where we are. We're in Old Magnussen's Mind Palace. That's what he calls this place, to taunt me. We need to prepare ourselves. We need to get out of here."

"Be quiet! You're lying!"

"Jack, please! PLEASE, Jack! I've taught you to deduce, to read people, to read me. So tell me, do I look like I'm lying?"

They glare at each other, breathing harshly, aware of the silence around them. "I don't like your story," whines Jack, "Tell me another one."

"THIS IS THE ONLY STORY YOU'RE GOING TO GET!" yells Sherlock, "NOW GROW UP AND LISTEN TO ME!"

"I DON'T WANT TO! I don't believe you!" They both stand, fists clenched as they try desperately to make the other see sense.

"Didn't you see what They did to me last night? They were going to hurt you, Jack! I'm trying to protect you! I'm trying to make you see that there's more to the world than this stinky Room!"

Jack starts to cry. "Room isn't stinky! Room is everything! I don't believe in you or your STINKY WORLD!" he shouts, throwing one last look of spite at his Pa, before storming over to Wardrobe and locking himself in.

Jack's shouts still ring in his ears, as Sherlock stares immobile at the spot where his son had been standing. A chill that has nothing to do with the temperature of Room seeps deep into his bones. A numbness floods him and he makes his way with difficulty over to Table. He sits on the edge, his feet dangling off the floor. The only noise is Chain jingling and clanking, a reminder of the truth that Sherlock has failed to make Sherlock understand. He listens for signs of life, but Jack is very quiet in Wardrobe.

His body starts to shake uncontrollably and he looks up at Strip Light. It flickers once. Warm tracks make their way down his face and it takes him a moment to realise he's crying. A high pitched keen escapes his throat and he clamps his hand over his mouth to keep quiet. He must not despair in front of Jack. No matter what, Jack must be able to depend on him. It's his own fault, he shouldn't have shouted. His body shudders with sobs he can't let out. Why can't Jack see? He mustn't blame him. Jack is only five and isn't prepared to have his whole world ripped apart by the person he trusts. He'll have to try another approach.

He's never cried so hard in his life. He breathes heavily into his hand, far too fast, the agony too strong for him to contain. He doesn't know how long it lasts, but he suddenly feels as though he's being watched. Hastily wiping his face on his T-shirt, he glances over his shoulder at Wardrobe. Jack wears an uncertain expression and he can't look his Pa in the eye. He shuffles around Table and rests his head on Sherlock's knee. The man's breathing is still stuttering and he struggles to get it under control. He tangles his fingers in Jack's hair and almost misses his son's whispered words.

"Tell me more about your World, Pa."

Sherlock scoops him up into a hug, a smile plastered onto his face. They make a deal: Sherlock will tell only the truth and Jack will believe him. He tells Jack of Mycroft, Redbeard and his life before Room and Chain.


	7. Sick

_I think I made Pa sad. I didn't mean to, but I didn't like his story. It scares me to think Pa used to be Half-Real like Them. How could he live in a house? How is there space in his world for a house? Does everyone live in the same house? And if people can leave their house, how do they breathe? Pa answers the best he can, but I still don't understand how the World works. How can it possibly exist? Pa tells me I'll understand one day._

 _It's strange to think Pa has a name. Sherlock Holmes. I like it. That means my name is Jack Holmes. This is very important, so I put it on the Important Shelf in my Mind Palace along with other things like Appledore, Vault, Pa's name and information about my family. I never want to forget. I believe Pa now. Pa doesn't lie to me._

 _I look at him. Pa is reading one of the stories that I got in my Big Book for my birthday. He tells me he's found a story that will help me understand. It's only meant to be read on the 31st of March, but Pa says we must read it now. It's called 'A Room With A Door And Not Much More'.*** A lady lets animals live with her until her Room is too full and there's no space left. But her friend who lives in an even bigger Room on wheels, called a caravan says they can all come and live with her. Pa looks at me and holds my head in his hands, which means he's about to say something very important. He explains that this is what will happen with our Room if we stay any longer. I ask him if it is because of Eggsnake. He smiles and shakes his head. He says it's because I will get bigger, not Eggsnake and I'll eat more food and there'll be less space for me to play. But most importantly, it won't be safe with Them coming in. I wish They wouldn't. Room would be perfect if They stayed away. But Pa says that if They never came, we wouldn't have any food. I think it's very complicated. Everything was simple when I was little. But now I'm five, I have to think about things a lot more._

 _I know more about Pa now. He's twenty-nine years old and he's been in Room for thirteen years, two months and four days. He's never had a birthday party in Room. I didn't even know Pa had a birthday. He was very lonely before me for eight years. When I was born, he cut the cord and said 'Hello, Jack!'. But I already knew that._

 _Room is still very cold. Fridge is dead and cheese smells bad. Pa says we must eat up eggs before they go bad. They taste a bit funny, but I'm starving so I don't stop. Then Pa takes a bite and he goes very white. He starts spitting out egg and I laugh and tell him he should eat properly, but he grabs me and makes me spit my mouthful out in Bin. I do and he asks me how much I ate. He looks at my plate and panics. He wraps me up in blankets and asks me if food tastes funny. I say yes. He panics some more and runs his hands through his hair, making it stand up all over the place. I'm worried about what I might have done wrong, but Pa says I must tell him if I feel sick. He says I'll know the feeling if it happens. I hide in Bed to keep warm and watch Pa as he throws our food away. I turn on TV and look at who's real like Pa and what isn't. I ask him if I'm right. He says I've understood and looks very proud of me. That makes me very happy. I switch off TV and sleep._

 _I wake up feeling really strange and bad, like I'm about to explode from the inside. Pa picks me up and holds me over Toilet, just as I'm sick. When it's over, my mouth tastes horrible and my nose burns. There's still no water so we can't flush Toilet and I can't drink. Pa is very worried and cuddles me, even though I smell. His tummy rumbles and he gets himself an apple. He bites into it and grunts. He starts to chew and then he stops and puts his fingers in his mouth. I hear a strange noise and he pulls out something small._

 _"What is it?"_

 _He looks at me. "Bad tooth. It must have come loose when They hit my head on the wall."_

 _"Can I see?"_

 _He gives it to me, but I drop it. Pa gets me to Toilet only just in time._

Sherlock is panicking. Jack's thrown up three times and the last time there was nothing left to throw up. The only good news is that they have all power and water back. Room is warming up again, but too slowly and Jack has a temperature. They've been sharing body heat, clothes and blankets. But Sherlock is worried out of his mind. They have no medicine. He can't make this better. But he does have a plan. A plan to save Jack.

Old Magnussen isn't easy to fool, which is why Jack being actually sick helps. He's no doctor, but if he can convince Them that Jack has food poisoning and is at risk of Salmonella, They might agree to take him to the hospital. Once there, Jack can yell for help and then he'll be safe.

"It's the only way to get you help, Jack. It could be serious and I can't do anything for you."

"But, Pa."

"Don't you see? We won't have to trick Them because you really are ill, you can go to hospital to get better and once you're there, you can shout "help, police!" and then we'll be safe. They'll be back this evening, tonight's our best and only chance."

"But, Pa, I don't want to," says Jack, fidgeting.

"You have to, it's the only way to get you out of here, it's all I can do for you."

"But, Pa, I'm scared. I don't want to be Half-Real."

Sherlock pulls him closer. You won't be Half-Real. You'll be just the same as you are now, but not in Room. You'll be fine, don't you worry about a thing."

The next hour passes to fast for Jack's liking. He isn't sick anymore, but he doesn't feel well and the temperature in Room is only just starting to feel normal again. He watches Strip Light as it flickers like a pulse. He wonders if the World has a Strip Light too, to stop the dark. He clutches Pa's tooth in his hand. If he has to leave Room, then he'll just have to take a piece of Pa with him. But he's scared of Them. He doesn't want to go anywhere with Them, not without his Pa for safety.

When the time comes, Sherlock has him dressed in his warmest jumper and socks, his best trousers and T-shirt. He tucks him in Bed and comforts him, reassuring him. Sherlock tries not to think their plan through. They've had no time to prepare what Jack will tell the police or the possibilities of what Old Magnussen and the Witch will do to stop him. But there is no other way. Getting Jack to a hospital could save him from further illness and both of them from captivity, if they're lucky. But only if the police stop Them. If They somehow get away and end up beck here, then Sherlock is… Well, things won't end well for him. They'll blame him for everything and the punishment will be severe. But Jack will be safe. That's better than the predicted outcome he had just a day ago. This is better than Jack sleeping in Wardrobe for the rest of his life.

He almost misses the six beeps and then the door opens. They stop in Their tracks as They take in the scene in front of Them.

"What's that god-awful smell?" asks the Witch.

"Jack's unwell. He's been sick three times and I don't know what to do," he replies, with genuine fear in his voice.

They approach Bed where father and son stare up at Them fearfully. Old Magnussen puts his hand on Jack's forehead. Sherlock glares at Him, warning Him to keep his distance. Jack squeezes his eyes shut.

"It would appear he has a fever. What happened?"

"It got really cold in here and the food went off in the fridge. We ate the eggs but something was wrong, they tasted funny. A while later, Jack started throwing up."

Old Magnussen and the Witch communicate silently, no words spoken between them. Sherlock tries to get Their attention.

"Please, you have to take him to a hospital. I can't do anything for him here, I'm not a doctor. It could be serious, I-"

"No," Old Magnussen's voice is the equivalent of a bomb destroying Sherlock's imperfect plan. "We'll be back tomorrow with medicine."

"No. No, you can't do that, it could be serious, it could be Salmonella or something, he's never been sick before, he might die-"

"Say please."

"A stunned silence fills the air between them. Sherlock blinks in an attempt to clear the panic from his head. "What?"

"How desperate are you for me to save your son? No matter how hard I've tried, I've never succeeded in making you say 'please" before. It's almost embarrassing for me really." He curls his lip and gives Sherlock a mocking smile. "Say please."

Sherlock glares at Him with all the contempt and hate he can muster. The feeling is overwhelming. But he gives in. For Jack. Always for Jack.

"Please," he chokes out, "please take him to a hospital."

There's another silence. Jack coughs. Sherlock swallows, ignoring the goose bumps all over his body, the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He can't breathe.

The older man smirks. "No, but thank you for saying it." And They turn to leave. Sherlock is after Them like a hare. He grabs the Witch's sleeve and receives a punch to the jaw for his efforts. "Please, PLEASE! I'll do whatever you want, you can do whatever you want with me, anything, I don't care anymore, I'm begging you, please."

He clasps one of Their legs and gets a kick in the stomach. He curls onto his side, groaning.

"I'm disappointed in you, Sherlock. What happened to that young, spiteful boy we brought into our home? I preferred him to the quivering mess you are now. We'll be back tomorrow."

The door closes behind Them. Sherlock leaps to his feet and bangs on it desperately, his right leg stretched out behind him as Chain refuses to let him get closer to the exit. Jack watches him silently. Sherlock eventually collapses onto the floor and buries his face in his hands. He'd been so sure. He'd been so sure.

"Am I in trouble?" whispers Jack, sadly.

Sherlock picks himself up and makes his way over to Bed. "No, of course not. This isn't your fault," he grips his hair and tugs hard. "Okay. Okay. Right, okay," he kisses Jack's head, his eyes determined and hard. "Plan B."


	8. Plan B

_Pa says if at first you don't succeed, try and try again. Our first plan was rushed because we didn't have time but now we've got a whole night and day, that's twenty-four hours and many, many seconds. We sit down at Table and I have to keep quiet while Pa goes into his Mind Palace. He says we won't have luck for a plan C so plan B has to be perfect._

 _I watch as Pa's fingers dance like his body. They twist in the air and he has his eyes tight shut. He is looking through his Important Shelves for information to build the plan. Pa says a plan takes a lot of thought, like when pirates attack other pirates to steal their treasure. I wait a while, but I get bored so I close my eyes and play with Redbeard. When I hear Pa breathe normal again, we open our eyes and look at each other at the same time._

" _Have you built a plan for us to escape?"_

 _Pa looks away. He's hiding something. "Yes, of course. Don't I always have the best plans?"_

" _Will I have to eat more eggs to get sick again?"_

" _No, absolutely not. They won't take you to a hospital, that's obvious, yet They are going to bring you medicine because They don't want you to die. So the answer is obvious." He stares right at me. "You're going to have to die."_

 _I gasp. "But, Pa, that's stupid! If I die, I'll still be here."_

 _He grins his big grin, the one he does when he's very happy. "Nope. Because you're going to play dead. Only Old Magnussen and the Witch will think you're dead."_

" _Will I have to hold my breath?"_

" _No, but you'll have to be not too floppy, not make any noise and be prepared to be a little claustrophobic. Think you can do that?"_

" _What do I have to do?"_

" _Come here, help me pull Rug out from under Table."_

 _We shift Table and lay Rug out flat near Door. Pa lays me on the edge. I look up at him._

" _What happens if this doesn't work, Pa? What happens if I make a mistake? Will Old Magnussen hurt you again if I-"_

 _Pa cups my face in his hands and presses a big kiss on my forehead. "Everything will be fine, because we're going to practice this, okay? I won't let Them touch you. Do you understand that, Jack? I will dig myself out of my own grave to protect you. You're my world, Jack."_

" _Are there dogs in your World, Pa? Real dogs like Redbeard?"_

 _Pa tickles me. "When you find uncle Mycroft, you can ask him for a dog. Now, I'm going to roll you up in Rug and you have to try and get out, all by yourself. Think of it as a game. Ready?"_

" _I'll try my best, Pa."_

 _After ten goes I get tired and cross. Pa keeps yelling: 'Roll! Roll! Too floppy! Too stiff! Try harder! Jeep quiet!' I want to cry but I don't. I want to prove to Pa that I'm a big boy. But I'm tired. I still feel sick and I can't breathe properly in Rug. Five goes later I finally unroll myself and I sit up angrily at Pa who's still giving orders and I shout "I HATE YOU!"_

 _I didn't mean to say it. Pa looks sad and we hug. I don't say sorry, because I still want to cry, but I've already forgiven him, just like he's already forgiven me. We're family. It's what we do best with no words._

 _When we've calmed down, we try again. We find the best way to roll up Rug for me to get out. I know a lot of time has passed and I'm sleepy, but I must stay awake. Pa is counting on me._

"Truck. Wriggle out. Jump. Deduce. Somebody. You need to remember those five things, Jack. They will help you escape. The Witch mentioned the other night that Their gardener was leaving his pick-up here and They have the keys. They won't bury you on the Appledore grounds, because Their gardener will be suspicious. They can't put you in the back of Their car, because again, suspicions. So that leaves the pick-up which They will use to drive somewhere far away enough to avoid curious people. We're on the outskirts of London, which means They will pass housing estates and neighbours. So once you're in the truck, you will do the second thing: Wriggle out of Rug. Then you will jump when the truck slows down and get away quickly. As you go, you're going to have to deduce the people you see make sure they are clever and safe enough to save you. You've had a lot of practice with the people on TV so don't you worry. And that's when you do the final thing: Somebody. Pick a real person and stay with them. Tell them you need the police. You have to tell them everything, okay?

There's a pause where Jack worries his lip and cocks his head. "I don't know if I'll remember any of that. There's too much data."

"You'll be fine. I'll be talking to you in your head the whole time. Truck, Wriggle out, Jump, Deduce, Somebody. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, because you'll be in my head."

"That's right. Now, we need to prepare what you're going to say."

To the police or the Somebody?"

"Both. You have to say that your father and you have been locked in a vault at Appledore. Go on, say it."

"Your father and you have been locked…"

"No, you have to say 'my father', not your father, okay? Try again."

"My father and you…"

"No, Jack, you're talking about yourself, remember? You say 'My father and I have been locked in a vault in Appledore.'"

"But you said…"

"Never mind. Tell the police about Room, okay? And Chain, you must mention Chain and Old Magnussen. But the most important thing is Appledore, do you understand? Because the police can't find me unless you tell them where to find Room. So you must tell them that Room is in Appledore. It's absolutely imperative, Jack."

"I've put it in my Mind Palace, Pa."

"Good boy. And tell them to find your uncle Mycroft Holmes. He'll protect you and take you to your grandparents. They'll all take care of you."

"What about you, Pa?"

Sherlock strokes his face. "I'll be alright."

But when I jump and find the Somebody, where will Old Magnussen and the Witch go?"

Sherlock swallows. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do," Jack squints at him. "You're lying, Pa."

Sherlock looks unsurprised by this accusation. He sighs. "They'll come back here to see me. That's why you have to tell the police about Room in Appledore. So they can get here as quickly as they can."

"What happens if they don't make it in time? When will I see you again?"

Sherlock buries his face in Jack's neck. "You're going to have to be really brave."

"Will you live with me and uncle Mycroft?"

"I love you, Jack."

"Where will you be?"

"In your memories, Jack. I'll always be there for you in your Mind Palace."

"What about for real? Will we live in the house together?"

"I love you. I'm doing this for you."

"Answer me!"

Sherlock's breath is warm against Jack's cheek. "There's one more thing we have to do."

They lay together on top of Rug, Sherlock curled protectively around his son one final time. He knows that if Jack makes it, then he won't. But that's okay. Because he won't have failed Jack. The boy in question is staring up at Strip Light, unaware of his father's turmoil. His watch won't stop ticking, why is time going so fast, it has never gone so fast…

The door starts to beep.

Sherlock sits up. Jack gasps in fear.

"I love you. Don't forget that." He grabs the edge of Rug and rolls his son up, just like they practiced. But then Jack starts to wriggle and tries to fight his way out.

Sherlock panics. "Keep still!" he hisses desperately. Jack struggles for a few moments and then falls still. The door opens.

"Where's your son…"

They pause and stare at Sherlock who's shaking and crying on his knees. Their eyes frift to the rolled up Rug.

"It's all your fault," mutters Sherlock, raising his red rimmed eyes. "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" he screams. "You wouldn't take him to a hospital and now he's dead!"

The Witch steps forward. "You let my son die?" she hisses.

Sherlock spits in her face. "He was never your son. He's mine, he's always been mine," he cries harder.

Old Magnussen steps forward and shoves him roughly aside. Sherlock watches with wide eyes as They unroll Rug. "Please," he whispers, "please don't make me look at the body. I don't want to remember him like that, you're not allowed to touch him…"

"Shut your mouth, if you know what's good for you. I swear that if you're lying…"

They all fall silent as Jack's arm flops out from under the last layer of Rug. Old Magnussen and the Witch seem surprised by this sudden turn of events. Old Magnussen searches for a pulse in Jack's wrist.

"No pulse," he states quietly and reaches to pull the rest of Rug off jack's face.

"No," says the Witch. "I don't want to see his face, don't do that."

Sherlock makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat. He crawls over to Jack's body and rolls him back up, his hands shaking. The intruders watch on silently.

"Please take him away. I can't bear it, just take him and bury him somewhere safe, please," he sobs in despair. He cries, his limbs wrapped around the small form. Then gently this time, the Witch drags him away, while Old Magnussen picks up the rolled up Rug. He grunts as he lifts it.

"Be gentle!" wails Sherlock, reaching towards Them with both hands raised. "Be gentle!"

The Witch helps her partner carry Jack and Rug away. When They reach the door, Sherlock scrambles to his feet, tears still flowing down his face.

"Hey!" yells the Witch. "You know the rules! Face the wall while we tap the code in!" She struggles to lift her end of Rug higher.

At that moment, something rolls out at Old Magnussen's end and across the floor under Bed.

"FACE THE GOD DAMNED WALL!"

Sherlock is still struggling to breathe as he does as he is told. He listens to the usual six beeps and the door opens and closes. For the first time in five years, he's alone. Fear takes possession of every limb and he runs as close as he can to the door and presses his palms against it. He gasps for breath for several minutes until he can calm down. Then he walks back over to Bed and pulls out the ball that had rolled out of Rug, the same one that he's used to fake a lack of pulse in Jack's arm. Thank god for the present They got jack when he was a baby.

He smiles. He's done his part. The rest is up to Jack.


	9. Hello World

_My heart is beating very fast. Pa is screaming too much and it scares me. I don't move as the monsters carry me away. They open Door with the beeps and then SLAM! Door is shut and I can't hear Pa anymore. I'm in the outside. Does Room still exist now that I'm not there?_

 _I lift my head to look through the gap at the top but all I can see is light. I take gentle deep breaths to stay calm. My heart is beating so hard and so fast that I can hear it, feel it. They carry me and I have to remember to stay still like I'm dead. I'm not heavy, but Rug is, and They are having trouble holding me. The witch is talking but I can't hear what she is saying. I'm so scared I suddenly wet myself. Sorry, Rug! Pa didn't say that would happen. It's only a tiny bit, but I hope They don't see. I can hear Their footsteps, thump, thump, thump. I'm not breathing very well, but I have to keep quiet. Pa's bad tooth is hidden in my mouth. It's still there, which means Pa is still real. I'm rocked from side to side and I wonder how long it will be before I'm in the truck. Will I remember everything Pa said? This is Plan B. Plan B has to be perfect. I've been given the most important mission ever: Save Pa._

 _They've stopped talking. I can hear a crunching sound when They walk. Is the ground different outside too? It's good I'm wearing socks._

 _I can feel cold on my face. Pa didn't say outside is cold. It's coming from the gap above my head and my hair is moving all by itself. How is it doing that? I try to deduce but I can't think of any answer._

 _I hear Them grunt and They lay me down on something hard. I hear movement and then a door shutting and then a door shutting again. It's different from the door in Room. There are no beeps. There's a loud VROOM! Like the cars on TV and the ground shakes. And then it moves and makes me roll and everything is bouncing around. I'm in the truck._

 ** _"Truck. Wriggle Out. Jump. Deduce. Somebody."_**

 _Pa! Pas was telling the truth; he is in my head. His voice makes me strong. The truck stops and then everything goes sideways to the left and everything shakes like I did when I was ill. I take a deep breathy and I push my arms above my head and I start to roll. I push and push as hard as I can, just like I practiced with Pa but it's harder because I'm being bounced around like Pa used to do with me when I was little. I wish Pa were here, then we could escape together._

 _I keep rolling to my right until Rug flaps open above my and I see light. The outside is very bright, brighter than Room. How is it brighter? I want to see. I want to see the world's Strip Light. It must be big. I kick Rug with my feet and push with my bottom to make it loose. I roll over one more time. I grab the flap with my hand and pull Rug off my face. I open my eyes._

 _Blue. Blue like Pa's eyes but a bit different. I didn't know there was more than one blue. It's everywhere above me. I breathe fast and my heart thumps. There are white things too. Are those clouds? They're all different shapes. I didn't know clouds could do that. My eyes are watering. The brightness hurts my eyes._

 _Brown things go over my head but I don't know what they are. Pa laughs quietly in my head._

 ** _"You're going to love it."_**

 _What?_

 ** _"The World."_**

 _I cry, because Pa isn't here to see it with me._

 _I push myself up and look around. The space is everywhere. The brown things are trees and they fly past me because the truck is going so fast. The truck turns left and we go past houses and cars. They're all so much bigger than they are in TV. How big is the world? And why is it so blue? And so bright? I turn around and I see Old Magnussen and the Witch driving the truck. They haven't seen me yet._

 _I crawl to the side and look down. The ground is moving and it makes me dizzy. I look up and see people as we go past. I hear people laughing and they are playing with a ball._

 ** _"Jump. Deduce. Somebody."_**

 _The truck slows and then it stops. I put my leg over the edge. It's a long way down. I lean forward and…_

 _The truck jerks right and I fall backwards into it with a loud BANG! I hear shouting and the truck stops. I hear doors. I put my hands on the sides and push forward. I fall to the ground and I gasp because it hurts. I hear Old Magnussen. My hair is all over my face because my ponytail is loose. I get up but I stumble. Their footsteps are right behind me! I'm so scared I can't breathe. I don't have time to deduce people. The ground is green now and I run across it. It's softer than the floor in Room and the ground I just fell on. The people are too far away. I'm not going to make it! I scream "SOMEBODY!"_

 _The people turn. They're real! Just like me and Pa. The Somebodies closest to me are staring. The lady looks scary but the man; he's safe. I deduce him as I run. The Witch shouts "Grab him, quick!" I run so fast I hit the man's legs and I crash to the ground._

 _A new voice says "Jesus!" but I'm not Jesus, I'm Jack. I want to tell them that but someone grabs my arm and pulls me off the ground and away from the Somebody._

 _"Hey!" says the lady. "Keep an eye on your child please, can't you see he has a walking stick?"_

 _"Shut up, Harry. Sir, is your daughter okay? Has she been in an accident?"_

 _I spit Pa's tooth out into my hand and hold it out towards the somebody. Old Magnussen tries to take it from me. I start to scream._

 _"Hey, Sweetheart, is that for me? What have you got there? Sir, is everything alright, should we call someone?"_

 _"Why don't you just mind your own business!"_

 _He's taking me away! No! I mustn't fail! "Pa, help me! HELP ME!"_

 _There's a loud click and Old Magnussen stops dragging me. I struggle to get away._

 _"Put her down,_ now."

 _I bite down on his hand as hard as I can and he throws me to one side and I roll as I land. I curl up into a ball and I hear the truck drive away. Someone touches me. I scream again._

 _"It's okay," says the man. "It's alright, I'm a doctor, I won't hurt you." He turns to the lady. "Call the police."_

 _She sighs. "Only you'd bring your gun out on an evening stroll."_

 _The Somebody helps me sit up. He's very kind and clever. He knew he had to call the police without me telling him. The lady is shaking. Maybe she's sick too. But the man is calm. I stare at his face and his hands._

 _"Soldier?" I ask him._

 _The man's mouth falls open and he stares at me. Then he nods and smiles. He has a nice smile, it makes his face look warm, like Pa's smiles. "What's your name?"_

 _"Jack."_

 _He looks surprised. "Well then, hello, Jack, I'm John."_

 _I'm cold, so the Somebody wraps me up. The police come, but I'm tired and I want to sleep. I must help them rescue Pa, because the Monsters know I'm alive. The police try to talk to me, but I'm scared. There's so much noise and brightness it hurts my eyes. I hold on tightly to the Somebody and he gets into the police car with me. He hugs me tight. He's the Somebody. I must never let him go._


	10. Jack Tells A Tale

_It's dark when we get to a big space called a police station. The somebody has trouble getting out of the car because of me and his bad leg. He limps like Pa does with Chain. We go into a room and the somebody puts me on a chair. The light in the ceiling is bright. It hurts and cover my face with my hands._

 _"Jack? Jack, can you look at me?"_

 _I look at the new man. He's a detective. He says his name is Lestrade. There's a lady called Sergeant Donovan. They say they want to help and they're going to ask me questions. I hold onto John's hand. Pa said the Somebody is important and this Somebody is the most important in the World. Pa will want to meet him._

 _"Why is the brightness so bright?" I ask._

 _Everyone looks confused. I try to explain. "Strip Light in Room isn't so bright. Why is Outside so bright?"_

 _Detective Lestrade sits forward. "Jack, who was that man you were running away from? Do you know him?"_

 _"He's Old Magnussen. The Witch was with him too."_

 _"The Witch?"_

 _"There was a woman too," says the Somebody. "They were in the red pick-up together."_

 _Lestrade nods and takes notes. "Okay. Is Old Magnussen your father, Jack?"_

 _I shake my head. "No, Pa is my father. Old Magnussen is the Monster."_

 _"Why is Old Magnussen the monster, Jack? Has he hurt you?"_

 _I lift my head up and look at him through my hair. John is holding my hand tightly and it's getting sweaty. "He hurts Pa," I sniff. I want to cry again. "Old Magnussen and the Witch hurt Pa. They're hurting him right now."_

 _"Where do you live, Jack? Do you know where you live?"_

 _"In Room."_

 _"Just one Room? Who lives with you?"_

 _"Pa lives with me. With Bed and Eggsnake and Rug and TV and Toilet."_

 _Everyone looks confused. They don't understand me._

 _"Is this Room in a house, Jack?"_

 _"Room's not a house."_

 _Lestrade looks at Sergeant Donovan and the Somebody. I can't deduce his face. "What is it then?"_

 _"It's… It's a vault."_

 _Now they're all staring at me like I'm the mad Hatter. "Room is a Vault?" he scribbles more words on his small book. "Are there any windows?"_

 _I shake my head. "No, no windows."_

 _"Then how does the sunlight come in?"_

 _I don't know what sunlight is. "We have Strip Light."_

 _Sergeant Donovan looks sick. "And what's outside the room?"_

 _"The Outside."_

 _"But is there a garden? A house, a street, anything?"_

 _I shrug. "I don't know. I've never been outside Room before."_

 _They all look horrified. "What about your father, your pa, where does he go? Does he lock you in there?"_

 _"Pa lives with me. That's why I had to play dead to escape. We don't know the code to the door. And Pa can't leave because of Chain."_

 _Lestrade is wearing a concerned face. "What chain, Jack?"_

 _"Chain around Pa's leg. It's attached to the wall and he can't get to the door. It's very tight. It makes him limp like Somebody." I point at John._

 _The Detective looks at Donovan. "That would explain why he's paler than a corpse." He says quietly. He looks back at me. "Tell me more about your pa, Jack. Do you know his name?"_

 _I close my eyes and go to my Mind Palace. I scour my wardrobe. Suddenly, I remember everything I'm supposed to say. I open my eyes and push my hair right out of my face. I'm not scared anymore._

 _"You have to find Pa. They're going to hurt him now that they know I'm alive."_

 _"Tell us everything you can, Jack, and we'll do our best to find him."_

 _"Pa is called Sherlock Holmes. He's been in Room for a long time, for thirteen years. He takes bad tablets to make him sleepy so he can't fight back. When the Monsters come, I have to sleep in Wardrobe, for protection." I go through all the data in my head. "Pa says I have an uncle, Mycroft Holmes. I have to find him because he'll protect me."_

 _Lestrade whispers something to Donovan and she leaves. There are lots of doors in the Outside. He smiles at me. "Sergeant Donovan has gone to see if we can find anything about your Pa. I remember his name from one of my first cases. Would you like something to eat or drink, Jack?"_

 _I'm very thirsty and hungry, but I shake my head. Saving Pa is more important._

 _"My officers will get you some water, doctor Watson. Thank you for staying with the boy. Now, tell me more, Jack."_

 _"Room is in Appledore."_

 _Everyone in the space breathes at the same time. It's a strange feeling. The detective leans towards me. "Are you absolutely sure, Jack?"_

 _I nod vert hard until my neck hurts. "Pa is in Appledore. That's where Room is. You must save Pa!"_

 _The Somebody sits back. "Of course. Old Magnussen is Charles Magnussen. Now it all makes sense."_

 _Sergeant Donovan comes back in with papers in her hands. "I've got it. Sherlock Holmes, missing for thirteen years, cold case. He was your first as a detective. Remember him?" She shows him one of the papers._

 _He nods. "God, I remember that. It was a nightmare. The family was under suspicion for ages. We thought it he was a runaway or doing drugs." He rubs his face. "This whole time, he's only been a few miles away."_

 _I don't understand what they're saying. They show me a picture. "Do you know this man, Jack?"_

 _I look. Then I cry. "Pa!" He looks different. The Somebody gives me a tissue and I wipe my face. It doesn't help. They show me pictures of Old Magnussen and I hide my face. I don't want to look at him. John cuddles me. He's good at that, like Pa. They should hug each other once Pa is rescued. I think they'll like each other a lot._

 _They get ready. People walk around fast, there's noise everywhere. I'm sleepy, but too scared for Pa. I wish they would hurry up. Then detective Lestrade comes back and he nods. John picks me up and carries me to another outside and it's cold. He forgets his stick, but I don't tell him because he's not limping, so he doesn't need it. We get into a car. A man with another, stranger stick stares at me. A lady next to him is using what I heard the police call a 'phone'. They get into a black car and follow us._

 _We're going back to Room. We're going to save Pa from the Monsters and Chain._

Jack is safe. Jack is _alive._

That's all he cares about. He knows this as They charge through the door and leap at his throat, beating him with a metal pipe, that Jack is out there in the big wide world, away from Them. They throw him onto Bed and hold him down. He's fully aware of what's going to happen next. They'll get as much enjoyment out of this before They kill him and relocate. He closes his eyes and opens the doors to his Mind Palace.

He can see it. Jack growing up, with Mycroft watching over him and driving him mad as he himself was driven mad by his older brother. Jack living with his grandparents, going to school, proving how clever he is…

He opens his eyes. He's standing in one of the many rooms of his Mind Palace. It looks just like Room, except it's empty and stretches as far as the eye can see. Empty asides from the small boy standing not too far in front of him.

"Jack," he gasps, "oh, Jack, I love you, I love you so much, I'm so proud of you." He runs towards him and there's no chain on his leg. Jack meets him halfway and they embrace. Then they look at his freed leg.

"Run, Pa," says Jack, "Run with me."

They grab hands and run.

Sherlock thinks he must be flying. Jack's laugh is infectious and they're giggling like they're both five year olds. Everything seems to be getting brighter and brighter. Sherlock snatches his son up into the air and spins him around. As the end approaches, they waltz towards eternity.


	11. Where Will It Take You?

_I don't understand why it's dark. When Room was dark it was for punishment, so why is World dark? I ask Somebody, but he just looks sad. I ask the police but they look angry. I hide behind my hair. Maybe when I stop looking at them they'll stop being real._

 _I'm in a car and the car has windows and doors. There are strip lights outside, but they don't stop the dark. When I get back to Room I'm going to be good always, because Room is always bright and Pa will smile more once Chain has gone. Maybe the Somebody will live with us in Room. I'll have to introduce him to Eggsnake and show him my school box._

 _People are talking but they're not in the car with us. They sound like they're on TV, but I can't see any pictures. I hear words I don't understand like "Hostage", "Helicopters" and "Media". Detective Lestrade says a bad word. The car goes faster._

 _"Doctor Watson, how did you get Mr. Magnussen to leave Jack behind?" asks Donovan._

 _I peek at the Somebody and I deduce that he's about to lie. "I threatened to call the police."_

 _She sighs. "I want to know who the boy's mother is. I've never heard of a case like this before. Women being held against their will with a child, yes, but a man with a child? This is a first for me." She looks at me. "Don't worry, Jack, we're nearly there."_

 _I hide my face in Somebody's jumper. He pats my shoulder._

 _The car stops making noise and we stop. I see a strange looking house full of light and there is light shining on the house from above. There are people and cars everywhere. The police tell us to stay in the car and they leave me with the Somebody. I climb over him and press my face to the window. I can't see Pa. I notice the man from before and I ask John who he is._

 _"I don't know," he says. "It's funny he's carrying an umbrella though. He almost looks too important to be here."_

 _I watch the man as he talks to the police. They turn and point at me. The man and I stare at each other. He's a bit creepy. I feel like he's watching my with a thousand eyes. Even the umbrella has eyes. The whole World has eyes. I turn away from the window and I hug the Somebody. He smells like a million smells I don't know. He cuddles me and we wait._

The first thing he is aware of is the cold. His teeth chatter and all he wants to do is crawl into a hole and die. Peeling open his eyelids, he glances once around Room and notices a blurry shape sat on one of the chairs. He squints and groans, his body shaking in an attempt to fight off the pain. He curls in on himself, grits his teeth and tries not to think about why he's naked. They'd been violent before, but this time They'd taken it to new extremes. He reaches out slowly, aware of how every movement makes sparks of pain shoot up his arm and he pulls his T-shirt towards himself. Biting his tongue to hold back a scream, he sits up in one brief, jerky spasm and breathes heavily through his nose as he pulls his T-shirt over his head. Keeping his jaw locked, he tugs his underwear up the length of Chain and struggles to get them up over his hips. Once he's caught his breath he turns back to the figure sat in the chair with their back to him. She's alone. Sherlock gathers a length of Chain in his hands and tries to slide off Bed as quietly as he can, but can't hold back the sharp intake of breath as more of his injuries reveal themselves. She cocks her head to one side and doesn't face him as She speaks.

"I wouldn't try moving if I were you. Charles has gone to get the… ARGH!"

She can't finish her sentence as Sherlock runs to her and wraps Chain around her neck and _heaves._ He almost collapses to his knees with the effort and his hands are shaking so hard he's having trouble choking her. He doesn't hear the door open and is only aware of the older man's presence as he takes a fist to the jaw. His head clips the edge of Table and he hits the floor hard. He stares at Jack's School Box and Eggsnake. Desolation and horror flood him and grasp his heart. He's never going to see his son again. He's going to be nothing but a curiosity in Jack's mind and one day Jack will stop thinking about him. He's going to be nothing more than a question to which no one will know the answer. He'll be a cold case and a distant memory.

It bothers him more than he expected it to.

He closes his eyes.

Suddenly there's a bang and although it sounds completely wrong, he flinches, thinking he's just been shot. He's already in too much pain to care. He just wants it to end.

"Police, hands in the air!"

Yep, he's definitely dead.

"Oh, _Christ._ "

Fingers press against his neck and tries to push them away. Why couldn't he just die? Was it too much to ask?

"He's alive! Mr. Holmes, can you hear me? My name is Detective Lestrade, everything's going to be okay."

Sherlock drifts.

"Sherlock, I need you to open your eyes. Can you squeeze my hand? Can you do that for me? Squeeze my hand."

Boring. It hurts too much.

"Sherlock, there is a little boy outside waiting for you. He's very worried. I need you to…"

"Jck," groans Sherlock, eyelids fluttering as he tries to focus.

"Your son is outside waiting for you. The paramedics are coming. I'm right here, okay? We've just got to get rid of the chain and then we can get you out of here. Squeeze my hand if you understand."

Sherlock curls his fingers loosely around the man's hand.

"That's good, that's very good. Don't worry, they're gone, you're safe now. Just take deep breaths." A hand runs through his hair. "You're alright, I've got you. Thank God, we've finally found you, after all this time."

Sherlock swallows with difficulty. "Where have you been?" he rasps.

"You were incredibly difficult to find. Jack knew what to tell us. Your plan worked perfectly. I'm just sorry we didn't get here earlier."

Sherlock cracks one eye open and glares up at him. "Idiot."

Lestrade lets out a shaky laugh. "Thanks a lot. Just don't move, okay? You really don't look too good. Just keep your eyes open and focused on me. Helps on the way." He turns as footsteps approach them. "We're gonna need the bolt cutters. Have you got them? Well done."

Someone tugs on Chain and someone screams. It takes Sherlock far too long to realise it is him.

"Careful! He's been through enough already, take it easy! Sherlock, it's okay, we'll be as gentle as possible, just squeeze my hand when it gets too much, yeah? How bad are his injuries?"

More fingers prod him gently. "I don't think anything's broken, but he's going to need medical attention."

"No." Sherlock tries to push them all away. "Jack."

"Bring in the stretcher."

"NO!" roars Sherlock, "I've been stuck here for thirteen years, you are not carrying me out, I'm walking out!"

"But, sir…"

"No," Sherlock grips Lestrade's shirt tightly. "I need to do this. Let me do this. I haven't had free will for too long, you will let me do this. If you carry me out, you'll give my son a heart attack, I need to reassure him. I can wait until later."

There's a long pause. Then Lestrade nods. "Alright, but I'm helping you. Let's get you up."

There was a loud **clank!** And Sherlock stares at his freed leg. A paramedic starts to unravel what's left around his leg. His skin is red and puckered and covered in blisters. Everyone in the room winces. Lestrade puts his arms under Sherlock's shoulders and helps him up. He sways on his feet and he stands mostly on one leg, leaning heavily on Lestrade. Everyone watches silently as they hobble their way to the door. Sherlock's breathing accelerates as they approach it, dreading this to all be a hallucination and the door would suddenly shut before he could cross the threshold. But nothing happens. He's suddenly in a corridor and he's not too sure what to do. He suddenly has a strange urge to turn back.

Instead, he breaks down in tears.

Lestrade rubs his back and keeps walking towards the exit, and out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock can see that the detective is shedding tears of his own. Sherlock can't deduce why. He just focuses on putting one foot in front of the other so as not to be carried out. After what feels like an eternity, they go up a flight of stairs, through a living room and they're facing the front glass doors.

Sherlock shoves the detective away and _runs._

The door is already open and he finds himself outside. _Outside._ Cold air blows around him, bright lights flash everywhere, all different colours and even in the dark he can see a swarm of people turn to face him. The crowd goes quiet and they stare at him and he stares back, _but where is Jack?_

He half runs, half falls down the flight of steps until his bare feet are on soft and well cut grass. He runs towards the nearest person, vaguely aware that he's screaming _Jack, where is he, where's Jack?_ His eyes fly from vehicle to vehicle trying to find his small boy, his brave boy, _why are they keeping Jack from him?_ Until…

"PA! PA, I'M IN THIS ONE!"

A man a few years older than him struggles to climb out of a car and hold Jack at the same time. _Army. Doctor._ Sherlock runs and falls, his legs giving out, his injuries demanding care and attention, but all he can see is Jack, Jack's alive, _he did it, he did it, he did it…_

He rips Jack out of the man's arms and holds him close. There's nothing except them. He stumbles and sinks to his knees, his face pressed against Jack's hair. Lights flash around them. People try to get closer. An orange blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. He opens his mouth and takes a huge, stuttering breath. They've done it. _They've done it._

He looks at no one as they're bundled into the car. The soldier gets in with them. Without a word, he puts Sherlock's foot on his lap and the paramedics pass him some bandages and then they're gone. Sherlock is vaguely aware that he may be going into shock.

Jack points at the man tending to him. "Pa, look. Somebody."

The man smiles at Jack and reaches out to shake Sherlock's hand. "John Watson. Glad to see you're safe. You must be Sherlock."

Sherlock wants to reply but Jack interrupts. "When are we going back to Room?"

There's an awkward pause. "We're not going back, Jack."

His heart sinks and Jack cries all the way to the hospital.


	12. Shattering Glass

Chapter Text

In an attempt to forget about the pain, Sherlock whispers reassuring words to his son throughout the entire journey, ignoring the other people in the car. They try to get his attention, call his name, but he ignores them. There are other cars in front and behind them, blue and red lights flashing bright all around them. Eventually they pull up and Lestrade helps him out. He calls for a wheelchair but Sherlock glares at him and makes his way towards the entrance, holding Jack close. He doesn't see the man in an expensive suit whose eyes follow his every step, limp and stumble.

Doctors swarm towards them as they enter and Sherlock feels overwhelmed. Lestrade notices his discomfort and steps between them, trying to explain the situation. There's a warm hand on Sherlock's elbow. He looks at John, who gives him a small, reassuring smile.

"I know a lot of the staff here," he says, "I friend of mine, his name is Mike, he's a psychiatrist here, you'll be most at ease with him."

Sherlock nods and returns the smile. A man steps up to them and greats John with a nod of his head and reaches out to shake Sherlock's hand. Sherlock stares and can't quite remember what he's supposed to do. He glances at John who gives him an encouraging nod and Sherlock shifts Jack's weight onto his left arm to shake his hand. The doctor introduces himself as Mike Stamford and takes Sherlock's appearance in with no pity in his eyes, only professionalism.

"We've prepared a private room for you both," he says, "Let's get you out of the public eye."

He reaches out to Sherlock who flinches away from him back towards John. Sherlock is too tired to deduce anyone's intentions, but Jack trusts John. Therefore, he can trust John too. They make their way slowly to the lift, ignoring everyone's stares and whispers, the other patients and visitors pointing at TV screens and muttering excitedly. Soon they are standing in a private room, but Sherlock can't see very well. He blinks against the onslaught of light that appears to bother no one else. He's vaguely aware of John talking and some of the lights are turned off. He looks around. The room is large, or at least, larger than what he's used to and he sees two beds side by side set up near to the bathroom. He's guided over to the beds and someone tells him to put down Jack. Put down Jack? When hell freezes over.

"Here," says John, holding out his arms, "You need medical attention. Let me take Jack. I'll stay right here, I promise."

Before Sherlock can even formulate a reply, his legs give out and everyone dives forward to catch him and Jack. His eyes close and Jack is taken away. He can hear John talking to him and as he opens his eyes. John is bouncing Jack gently and smiling down at him. He can't hear Jack's reply. The doctors and nurses take him to the bed and sit him down on the edge and ask him to strip off. Seeing that Jack has gone back to sleep he complies, shame burning his face. He knows what questions will be asked as soon as he reveals all his injuries. One nurse falls silent as she notices the blood stains on his underwear. When Mike spots it too, he looks at Sherlock.

"We're going to pull the curtain in case your son wakes up. John will be right there with him, is that ok?"

Sherlock stares at his feet. Answering will be like shattering glass and then they'll all have to walk on the shards. Perhaps if he says nothing, it'll all go away. That seems to be the sort of thing that Jack would say.

Sherlock can't block out the words like "malnutrition", "abuse", and "rape kit". Gentle hands guide him to lie down on the bed. More doctors come in and they examine him, checking him over like he's something to be poked at under the microscope. He loses all sense of time and stares blankly at the ceiling, simply answering 'yes' to all their questions, no matter what they're asking for. Eventually, most of them leave. A nurse passes him a fresh pair of underpants and helps him slip them on. He glances over her shoulder and catches his reflection in the mirror. It's a good thing Jack had been asleep before. He looks awful. There are ugly bruises all over his body, his sickly pale complexion making them stand out all the more. He's far too skinny, his skin stretched over his bones. How is he ever going to overcome this? He runs his hands over his shaved head, his hair slightly shorter than John's and all he can see is Them. They've left their mark on him. He'll put on weight, his hair will grow back and the bruises will fade but this image will be burned forever in his memory. No matter how hard he tries, he knows this is something he'll never be able to delete.

There's movement behind him. He's not the only one staring at the mirror. The curtain has been pulled back and Jack is asleep under the blankets. John is staring at Sherlock's body with a pained expression on his face. Sherlock watches him nervously as John walks around the bed to stand next to him.

"You'll be okay." He says quietly. "I imagine it's a bit terrifying right now, but soon you'll be back with your family and you'll have your whole life ahead of you."

Sherlock glances at Jack. "So you're the somebody." He says eventually. John laughs.

"I'm not too sure what that means exactly, but yes, according to Jack, I'm the Somebody. So what does it mean?"

"I told Jack to find a 'Somebody', someone he judged safe and to stick with them no matter what." He looks John in the eyes. "Jack chose you."

John clears his throat self-consciously. "Well, I'm just glad to have been able to help. It's nice to know I'm not completely useless."

"You were invalidated home, correct?"

John blinks. "Jack guessed I was a soldier. How did you know?"

"Your limp is psychosomatic, it's from trauma. Normally I'd expect you to have a walking stick or…"

"Oh!" exclaims John as he glances around. "I must have left it at Scotland Yard. I hadn't even realized. But how did Jack know?"

"We call it the science of Deduction. I wrote a paper about it at school." Sherlock sighs. "That was a long time ago now."

His eyes droop shut. He reaches out blindly and finds John's hand. "Thank you. You can't possibly imagine what you've done."

John doesn't reply. He squeezes Sherlock's hand and they grip each other like a lifeline. Eventually he lies back on the bed and rolls over to face Jack. Their beds have been rearranged so that they are now touching. He scoops the small boy into his arms and holds him close. Jack wraps his arms around his neck in his sleep. Someone pulls a blanket over them and another checks the bandages around his ankle. Sherlock breathes out a sigh of relief and sleeps without fear for the first time in years.


	13. Uncle Mycroft

_I open my eyes._

 _Everything is bright. I lift my head but there's too much light, so I lay back down again. The ceiling looks different. Then I remember; we're not in Room anymore. I look at Pa. He's fast asleep. I wonder if Chain is still attached to his leg._

 _I push the covers off me and sit up. The light still hurts but it's better. I crawl to the edge of the new bed and put one foot on the floor. It's different from the floor in Room. I look around. I don't understand. Why does outside have so many insides? I must ask Pa. He's good at explaining things._

 _Now I'm standing in this new space. I see a window and I walk towards the light. I want to see World's Strip Light. Is it long like Room's?_

 _I look outside. I see trees and people and cars. The ground is different from the inside and different in other places. Some of it is squashy and green like the ground yesterday. I wonder why the people all look so small. I stand on tip-toe and look down. There are small cars beneath the window. Why am I higher up? Am I dead? I run back to the bed and jump back on it screaming "PA!"_

 _Pa gasps and catches me before I fall off the bed. "Good morning. I didn't think you were going to wake up."_

 _I panic. "Am I dead?"_

 _"What? No, we're in hospital, in a bedroom."_

 _"Are we sick?"_

 _"No, we're fine. In fact, we couldn't be better."_

 _"Where's the Somebody?"_

 _"I would imagine he's gone home. It was very kind of him to stay as long as he did."_

 _"Is he coming back?"_

 _"I don't think so."_

 _I sniff. "But he's good at hugs, like you. You were supposed to hug him."_

 _Pa looks embarrassed. "I don't think…"_

 ** _BRING!_**

 _I jump at the new noise. I've never heard it before. Pa rolls over and that's when I see all the bruises. Pa holds something to his face and talks into it, but I don't care about that. My mission was to save Pa and now Pa is hurt all over._

 _Pa is still talking. "Bring it up in twenty minutes. Thank you." He looks at me. "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"_

 _"My mission was to save you and I messed it up!"_

 _Pa pulls me into a cuddle. "No you didn't. See? I'm right here with you."_

 _"But you're hurt!" I'm crying like a baby, but I can't stop. "The Monsters got you!" I get the hiccups. "And now I've wet the bed!"_

 _Pa lifts up my leg. "That doesn't matter." He cups my face and presses our foreheads together. "I'm alive because of you, Jack. You are the bravest little boy in the whole wide world. And don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Now let's get you clean."_

 _We walk into the bathroom. Pa pulls my pants off and throws them in the bin. "Pa, that's waste!"_

 _"The hospital will lend you a pair. We don't have to worry about being wasteful. We don't have to beg for clothes anymore."_

 _"But my clothes are in Room. How do we get them?"_

 _"We'll get new ones." Pa grins. "I'll be able to wear trousers again."_

 _I stare at his ankle. "Chain's gone!"_

 _Pa beams. "I know. We're free, Jack, we're finally free." He pulls me over to the mirror. "Look at us, Jack. Remember this moment. This is our victory. It only gets better from now on."_

 _I twiddle my hair. "Will the Monsters find us, Pa?"_

 _Pa grips my shoulders tight and wears his serious face. "No. They will never find us."_

 _Pa gets undressed and walks behind a wall. I follow him. Water sprays from above his head and I run away. Pa laughs. "It's just a shower, don't worry. We both need to get clean."_

 _"Where's the bath?"_

 _"There isn't one."_

 _"I'm a Pirate. Pirates need baths."_

 _"Well, if you don't get under the shower you're going to be a smelly pirate." Frowning, he leans forward. "What happened to your knee?"_

 _"I bumped it when I jumped out the truck."_

 _Pa stares at me, then he smiles. "So brave," he whispers. He flicks water at me and we laugh. I watch him as he gets clean. He had his back to me, because I'm not supposed to see him naked, but I can't look away because I'm worried. Pa has bruises everywhere. When it's my turn to shower, Pa uses all the shampoo on my hair. He's being very wasteful. It's good we're not in Room anymore or Chain would get tighter. I'm secretly worried about what the punishment is outside. What if Pa gets us into trouble?_

 _Pa puts my dressing gown on, but it's too big, so he rolls up the sleeves. He has one too. They're blue like Pa's eyes and we match. He rubs my hair dry. I hold his hand and we walk over to the window. The light is too bright and it hurts Pa too. I blink a lot until I can see the sky. It's very cloudy. It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen. But I still can't see the Strip Light. I ask Pa._

 _"I think we're facing south, so the sun will come around soon."_

 _"What's the sun?"_

 _"It's a star. It keeps the earth warm."_

 _"What does it look like?"_

 _"It's round and yellow. But you mustn't look at it, or you could damage your eyes. It's very bright."_

 _"Why does it move?"_

 _"I don't know."_

 _My mouth falls open. "What? But you know everything!"_

 _"I deleted it."_

 _"But why?"_

 _"Because it wasn't important. And because…" he takes a deep breath. "Because I never thought I'd see daylight again."_

 _Pa looks sad, so I hug his leg._

 _KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!_

 _I tug Pa's sleeve. "Pa the door is ticking."_

 _Pa turns. "It's okay, don't worry about it." He leads me over to the bed and we sit down. The door opens._

 _"Good morning," says a new voice. I press my face against Pa's chest and I hide behind my hair._

 _"Come on, Jack, stop it."_

 _"Good morning, Jack. My name is doctor Stamford. You were asleep when I saw you last night. I've brought you some food, would you like some breakfast?"_

 _I peek through my hair. The person has crouched down so he can see me better. Luckily he hasn't come too close._

 _"What do you think, Jack?" asks Pa. "Are you hungry?"_

 _"Yeah, you must be starving." The doctor pushes a table on wheels towards us. "We've got pancakes and fruit for you."_

 _"Wow, Jack, pancakes!" whispers Pa, gleefully. "But I'm too scared. I don't want to see more people. What if they're scary like the Monsters?_

 _"Anyway, I've spoken to the police, they explained that the Room you were in was very dark, so I've brought you some sun screen for Jack and quality sun glasses…"_

 _"I DEMAND THAT YOU GET OUT OF MY WAY!"_

 _I jump and Pa pulls me closer. The door swings open and the man with the evil umbrella walks in. I scream and curl into a ball. Pa doesn't move._

There's a long silence, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. Sherlock stares at the newcomer, his jaw slack and their eyes are riveted to one another. Eventually, he manages to make his mouth work. He stammers. "Mycroft?"

The older man swallows, eyes locked on Sherlock's face and the bruises that run along his jaw line, down his neck and disappear down his chest and into his dressing gown. Sherlock squirms under his scrutiny. Feeling belittled compared to his older brother who still hadn't uttered a single word, he attempts to stand and grasps the bed for support when his injured leg refuses to hold his weight. Mycroft is cataloging every one of his injuries. Sherlock has so many things he wants to say: Where were you? You were right all along. _Where were you?_ Instead he chokes out, "Are you real?"

Stretching out a trembling limb, he reaches for his brother slowly, unsure of the reaction he will get. Mycroft strides across the distance between them and grips his shoulders, himself uncertain as to how to act, now that the moment he has dreamt of for so long has finally arrived. Sherlock tries to conceal his emotions, but he was never any good at hiding from his brother. Shaking like a leaf, tears welling up, he hopes he won't cry in front of this man so full of himself and authority.

Mycroft holds his wavering gaze. "Hello, Sherlock," he rasps and Sherlock allows himself to break down, knowing he's not the only one who's not coping. He ensnares his brother, wrapping both arms around him and vaguely aware of Mycroft patting his back awkwardly. But that doesn't matter because he's real, so _very real._ Mycroft says nothing and Sherlock soon understands that he is expected to get himself back under control and quickly. He takes a deep breath and leans away from him, mumbling "sorry" under his breath. Mycroft clears his throat and pulls back the top of Sherlock's gown to get a better look at his injuries. Sherlock tries not to flinch. Then he remembers.

"Jack!" he exclaims and turns back to the small boy. "Jack, look, it's uncle Mycroft. It's okay, I promise. Mycroft, this is my son, he helped me escape. His name is Jack."

Sherlock's hands shake as he tries to coax Jack into looking at Mycroft. He needs Mycroft's approval, to accept Jack as family, as a Holmes.

Mycroft assesses Jack, his poker face impeccable. Jack peeks at him through his hair and Sherlock's guts twist anxiously. He smiles. "Hello, Jack. Thank you for saving my little brother."

Sherlock chokes back a sob and pulls Jack against him, giving Mycroft a watery smile, grateful for his approval. Doctor Stamford watches them quietly. Mycroft doesn't attempt to touch Sherlock again, but watches Jack with a certain amount of emotion that Sherlock can't recognize. He turns to Mike. "How are they, Doctor?"

"I'm going to need to keep them here for a little while Mr. Holmes. I need time to assess them, especially Jack."

Sherlock's gaze is like ice. "Nothing happened to Jack, there's nothing wrong with him."

Mike twiddles his thumbs nervously. "I know that, but he's never been in contact with most of the germs we are used to, he will need time to adapt to people, the outside, sunlight in particular and he's a bit small for his age, probably due to lack of nourishment. There may be other things too."

Jack lifts his head and Sherlock bends to hear him better. "I'm Jack the giant."

Mike smiles and crouches down to look at Jack, but Jack is hiding, face buried in his father's gown. "What was that, Jack?"

Sherlock practically spits in his face, snarling at his patronizing tone. "He says he's not small, he's Jack the giant."

Mike ignores Sherlock's tone. "You will be, Jack, you will be." He stands up. "Your parents are here, Mr. Holmes, but they want to talk to me before they see you. Perhaps you would like to see them outside, or would you rather be in here?"

"Outside." Says Sherlock. "I want to get some fresh air."

"Very well, I'll have the nurse bring you some clothes. Oh, and there's a man outside, friend of mine, can't get him to leave, John Watson, you probably remember him from last night. Jack responded well to him, can he come in and say hello?"

Sherlock looks down at Jack, who nods and seemingly regains his confidence. "Okay, I would like to thank him properly."

"Right, I'll call him in." He turns and walks over to the door. He murmurs something to someone outside and steps back as John walks in, a nervous smile on his face. "Hello, um, you probably don't really want me here, but I just wanted to make sure you were both okay before I headed home."

Sherlock is shocked. "You stayed the night?"

John shrugs. "Jack was so brave and you were both so lost and…" he struggles to find words. "Maybe I should go."

"No." Sherlock cuts him off. "Please, stay." He blushes. "Um, I mean…"

"Yes, I mean… uh, if I…eh…"

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "Doctor Watson, you will be rewarded for helping my brother. And you will stay or I will do everything in my power to ruin your life. Are you understanding me?"

Jack beams. "Yay! Now the somebody has to stay."

Sherlock catches John's eye. They share an amused smile.


	14. Monster

_Pa and I, we're famous. Since we're in the world, people know who we are. The nurse says that people have sent us presents. She brings clothes for us to try on so we can go outside to meet grandma and grandpa. I'm very nervous. I get brand new clothes and they fit me perfectly. I wear jeans for the first time ever. Pa has a pair too. It's strange to see his legs disappear. I've never seen him wear trousers before. But first the doctor person looks at Pa's ankle. It hurts Pa a lot, but he wears a brave face and holds my hand. The doctor is concerned. He tells me not to worry about Pa, but that just scares me even more. I don't know much about the world, but I know he's lying._

 _I struggle with shoes, I keep falling over because they make my feet heavy and I go CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP all around the new room. John makes me stand on his feet and holds my hands and we walk around the room. It feels strange and we can't stop laughing and Pa has never smiled so much. I knew he'd like the Somebody._

 _Pa puts sun tan lotion on my face and makes me wear a mask because there are a gazillion germs in the air that want to kill me. He picks up the cane the hospital gave him to help him walk and we leave the room. In the outside but not the outside people stare at us as we walk past. Pa keeps his head down and looks at the floor, so I do the same. We get in a lift and it's all shiny with lots of buttons and it travels up and down like a rocket. I get to press the button and we go down and we arrive in a new space. When we get to the big sliding doors, they open all by themselves. The brightness hurts and Pa puts my sunglasses on my face. They pinch my nose. Pa has a bigger pair. He takes my hand and we step out into the real outside._

 _The ground is different. I jump up and down. We follow the nurse towards tables and chairs. There are people waiting for us. I can see uncle Mycroft. He stands up as we get nearer. Pa is gripping my hand so tightly it hurts. We walk around a glass wall, that's so invisible I almost don't see it. I see grandma and grandpa for the first time._

Sherlock lets out a breath as he takes in the aged faces of his parents. Mycroft stands to the side watching them all. Time seems to have frozen as their mother steps towards Sherlock and reaches out to touch his face. He holds still, his expression unreadable behind the sunglasses as she skims her fingers over the bruises on his jaw. The silence is deafening and he can't breathe. They only have eyes for each other. Tears well up in her eyes as she takes in his appearance. Her hand runs over his short hair and she swallows to contain her emotion. Sigar Holmes steps forward and places a supportive hand on his wife's shoulder.

Sherlock opens his mouth to speak, but stops to glance down at Jack who is hiding behind his legs. Glancing at his parents, he immediately notices a change in their behavior. His mother's face is rigid and she stares at Jack with a certain intensity that frightens him. Sherlock smiles uncertainly and gestures the benches. "Could we sit down? My leg is rather sore," he whispers.

John starts to walk away, but Violet Holmes calls out to him. "Doctor Watson, would you watch the child for a moment?" She turns to Sherlock. "We would like to speak to you alone," she tells him.

Jack hugs his Pa tighter. Sherlock looks at his brother for guidance, but Mycroft appears just as confused as he is. John steps forward. "Come on, Jack, why don't we go for a walk? There must be something you'd like to see."

Jack takes his hand and John and Sherlock share a look as they walk away.

"I don't understand," says Sherlock quietly, watching them leave. "Jack really wanted to meet you."

His mother glares out across the car park. His father swallows. "Sit down, Sherlock."

They all take a seat. For a long moment, no one says anything. Sherlock wrings his hands together. He's had thirteen years to prepare, yet he has no idea what to say. His parents aren't exactly forthcoming either. He can't make his voice go any higher than a whisper, as though this moment might shatter.

"I missed you," he says. "I missed you so much. I can't imagine how worried you must have been. I'm so sorry."

Their expressions change once more. Even Mycroft can no longer look his brother. Sherlock has never seen him look so… guilty. His mother's eyes are shut and his father doesn't know where to look.

 _Guilt._

His heart plummets to his stomach. "Oh," he breathes. "You didn't look for me."

Violet Holmes sighs. "We thought your disappearance had something to do with drugs. It was the easiest thing to tell everyone. It was the only thing that would get the police off our backs. It wasn't very hard to convince them."

Sherlock's ears are ringing. It's possible he's going into shock. "But I'm your son," he rasps pleadingly. "How could you do that? There wasn't a single day that passed that I didn't think of you. And you told everyone I was an addict?"

"What choice did we have?" she snaps, but falls silent under her husband's stern gaze.

"We can't change the past," he says, his voice older and wearier than Sherlock has ever heard it. "Your mother and I are relieved you are safe. After everything that has happened, we must put the past behind us and move forward. We will overcome this as a family. First we must wait for our lawyer to arrive and then we can discuss what must be done with the child."

Sherlock is still trying to process everything he's just heard. "Jack, his name is Jack. Whatever happens next, he'll be staying with me."

His mother shakes her head. "Sherlock, you have no obligation to the boy. We're not even sure he is your son."

"Of course he's my son," laughs Sherlock nervously. "Of course he is, I would know. I was there."

The three people opposite him squirm uncomfortably. Sigar Holmes clears his throat. "Yes, well, who named him Jack?"

Sherlock smiles, remembering. "I did. I couldn't decide at first, but in the end…"

"You made the right choice," says his father. "A child created that way doesn't deserve the traditional family name."

Sherlock tenses, his hands curled into tight fists. His mother nods. "We'll find a home for the boy, somewhere out of the public eye. We don't want any embarrassment and the quicker he goes, the faster you'll heal."

Sherlock can hear his own blood rushing. Mycroft looks outraged. That keeps Sherlock grounded. "Jack is my son. He's my responsibility and he's staying with me."

"Don't be ridiculous. How can we possibly explain his presence to everyone?"

"I'll tell them that he's my son," grits out Sherlock. "I'll tell them that he's my son and that I love him."

"Men aren't raped by women, Sherlock, can you imagine the shame of telling everyone?"

"Perhaps if you'd fought back harder…"

"Sherlock, you've never known what love is, even when we showered you with it, you can't say things like that, especially about some monster's spawn…"

Sherlock jumps to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg. Mycroft also stands and puts himself between his brother and their parents. The only sound is Sherlock's heavy breathing.

"PA! Pa, look what I found! Flowers are real, Pa! PA!

Sherlock spins around to look for his son, just as his son crashes headlong into the glass wall.

 _I don't want to leave Pa, but the grandma lady says so, so John takes my hand and we go for a walk. I'm still having trouble with shoes and the Somebody teases me. He points at the cars and we go to look. Some are very shiny and they have four wheels, just like on TV. There are lots of different colours and sizes but they are much bigger than me. But my favorite is the ambulance. We watch as the sirens go and the lights flash as it drives away._

 _I look at Pa and he's still talking to uncle Mycroft and the grandparents. Then I see some plants, except these ones have colours. I pull John over to them. He says they are called pansies. Then he asks me if I can keep a secret and I say no because I don't have any. He laughs and quickly picks two pansies and gives them to me. I'm not allowed to tell anyone, but this way Pa can see them without having to walk on his bad leg. I see Pa and uncle Mycroft standing, so I run over to them._

 _"PA! Pa, look what I found! Flowers are real, Pa! PA!_

 _"Jack, look out!" shouts the Somebody. But it's too late, because I forgot about the invisible wall and CRASH! I hit it hard. My nose hurts and I fall over. I burst into tears._

 _"Jack!" shouts Pa. "Jack, it's okay, I'm here," he cuddles me tight. "Oh god, are you alright? Here, let me see, it's okay."_

 _Someone touches my face. I hear John's voice. "Nothing's broken, he didn't hit it too hard, thank goodness. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize he couldn't see the glass. I just thought…"_

 _"It's okay," says Pa, giving me a kiss. "It could've been worse." He tries to pick me up, but instead he falls over. John carries me and uncle Mycroft helps Pa stand. They walk away quickly._

 _"Wait!" calls the Somebody, "What about…" he gestures at the grandparents._

 _"Leave them," snaps uncle Mycroft. "I'll deal with them later."_

 _"Pa? What about grandma and grandpa?"_

 _Pa covers his face with his hands. Something bad must have happened. I stare at the pansies that are still in my hand._

 _They don't seem very special anymore._


	15. Ray of Light

_We've been at the hospital for two days. Pa is very sad. He sits in a chair all day and stares at the wall. He doesn't eat or sleep. The Somebody is very worried. He plays with me and my new toys and sits next to Pa and stares at the wall with him. No one will tell me what happened, but I can hear them talking. The grandparents don't don't want me, only Pa. Only Pa loves me. The doctors are all liars. They don't tell me anything._

 _Pa can't walk anymore. His leg won't stop bleedingand white stuff keeps coming out of it. Things were supposed to be better in the outside, but I miss Room. At night I go to my Mind Palace and talk to Redbeard and Eggsnake. I hope Eggsnake is okay, because we left him behind in Room. He must be very lonely._

 _Uncle Mycroft talks to Pa, but Pa doesn't answer. On the third evening before bed, I walk over to Pa and accidently hit my head on one of the arms of the chair. Pa jumps and rubs my sore head._

" _I'm worried about you, Jack. That's the fifth time you've walked into something."_

 _I shrug and climb onto his lap. He holds me close and we stay like that until I'm almost asleep. I have to clean my teeth by myself like a big boy, because Pa can't get up. I brush my long hair. I wonder if there are other real children in the world._

 _When I go to bed, the doctor person tells Pa to get some sleep, but Pa won't listen. In the end he agrees to lie down. I quickly go to sleep with him next to me._

 _I wake up next morning because I hear voices. I keep still and listen as Pa talks to the doctor person and uncle Mycroft._

" _I assure you, we are doing everything possible to help your brother and nephew, but Jack is struggling with coordination. He's not used to such big, open spaces and therefore he can't calculate distances."_

" _There's nothing wrong with Jack," says Pa._

 _Is there something wrong with me? Perhaps I'm not normal. Maybe that's why no one loves me._

" _Your brother's leg is my biggest concern. I'm sorry to say this, Sherlock, but we may have to amputate."_

 _My heart goes THUD! Because I know that word. I've heard it before and I know what it means. They're going to take Pa's leg away! I jump out of bed and run to the evil doctor and hit him and kick him hard. "No, I won't let you! I won't let you hurt Pa! No! NO!"_

 _The doctor person grabs my arm and pulls hard. I scream._

 _There's a loud CRASH! As the table on wheels hits the wall and a crunch! When Pa punches the doctor on the nose. Pa grabs me and runs backwards until we hit a wall. I curl into Pa's chest and he wraps himself around me to keep me safe. We drop to the floor. Pa is shaking. I can hear the doctor groaning. Pa is better at hurting people then I am. But I'm only small._

" _Get out," says uncle Mycroft. "You're fired."_

" _But, sir..."_

" _GET OUT!"_

 _The door goes SLAM! And I hear running._

" _Is everyone alright? What happened?"_

" _Get doctor Watson, quickly."_

" _Mr. Holmes, I need you to breathe..."_

" _STAY AWAY FROM US!" yells Pa. "Touch my son again and I'll kill every one of you!"_

" _What the hell is going on in here?"_

 _The Somebody! John is back to rescue us again. Ha walks over. I can't see him, but I can hear him._

" _Can I come any closer?" he asks._

 _Pa nods and he sits down next to us. "What do you need?"_

" _Get everyone out," says Pa. "Everyone."_

 _John says nothing, but I see him wear his soldier face. Everyone leaves quickly, even uncle Mycroft._

" _Do you want me to go?"_

 _Pa shakes his head. We sit on the floor for a while. Uncle Mycroft comes back in._

" _Doctor Watson, as of now you are my brother's and nephew's doctor."_

 _John stares. "Sorry, what? But I don't work here. Or anywhere for that matter. And my sister's place is too far away, there's no way I can make the journey every day."_

" _I understand that you are looking for somewhere to live in London. Sherlock also needs somewhere to live. Since you've all become quite close, maybe you should consider a flat share._

 _John goes very red like an apple, which makes me giggle. "Well, I barely know your brother. All I've done over the past couple of days is get in everyone's way..."_

" _No," says Pa. "No, that's wrong. You have made life significantly easier when Jack and I had no one to turn to. You have given your time, your understanding and your patience when I have been the least cooperative. I would trust Jack with no one else. No one."_

Sherlock and John stare at each other for an inappropriate amount of time and don't realize that Mycroft is still talking to them. Jack watches them both until he crawls off his Pa's lap and sits between them, holding a hand each. Mycroft clears his throat.

"Sherlock, I was saying that there is someone here to see you."

Sherlock is immediately suspicious. "I don't want to talk to the police or the lawyer, I'm not in the mood and I don't want to think about that right now."

Mycroft sighs patiently. "No, Sherlock, this is somewhat a surprise. She heard about you on the news and contacted us immediately." He walks to the door and opens it. "Surely you remember Mrs. Hudson."

An elderly women totters in and Sherlock gapes. He tries to stand and John immediately helps him up. Jack hides behind his legs. Sherlock continues to stare. "Mrs. Hudson?"

She gasps and approaches him, straightening his clothes and inspecting his fading bruises. "Oh my poor boy, what did they do to you?" She pats his cheek. "When you went missing, I moved back to britain, because I wanted to thank you in person and I didn't find out until I met your parents. But now you've been found safe and sound and I can hopefully return the favour. I hear you have a little boy with you?"

Sherlock gapes like a fish. "Mrs. Hudson?' he repeats, a little lost.

"Of course it's me, dear," she gives John a smile. "He got my husband executed, he did. Isn't he wonderful?"

There's an awkward pause. John blinks. Mrs. Hudson beams. "And you must be Jack!" she exclaims, peering behind Sherlock. Sherlock winces and sits on the edge of the bed. "Jack, do you remember the story I told you about how I wanted to be a detective? This is the lady I was telling you about. This is Mrs. Hudson. Why don't you say hello?"

Jack hides behind John and shakes his head.

"Hello, Jack," she smiles, "I'm afraid I can't bend down, I have a bad hip. I've brought you a present, would like to see?"

"Mrs. Hudson, it's very kind of you, but you really shouldn't have gone out of your way..."

"Nonsense, dear, after everything that's happened you deserve a treat, especially little Jack." she rummages through her bag and pulls out a bright red package. "Here you are, Jack. And this," she pulls out a smaller one. "This is for you, Sherlock."

Father and son stare at their respective parcels. Jack runs to Sherlock and tries to climb onto his lap. Sherlock scoops him up. "Come on, Jack, why don't we see what Mrs. Hudson got you?"

Jack stares at it uncomprehendingly and whispers in his Pa's ear. Sherlock chuckles. "That's because it's wrapped up. You have to take the red paper off. We'll do it together."

They rip the cello tape off and pull apart the paper. Jack forgets about hiding and peers inside. He holds up a round fluffy toy.

"It's a panda." she explains. "I know it's round like the moon, but it seemed age appropriate. It also works as a hot water bottle."

Jack looks at his Pa for an explanation.

"A panda is like a bear, but black and white; the moon is round and comes out in the sky at night and a hot water bottle keeps people warm in bed," says Sherlock, without a pause. "I'll explain later. Are you going to help me open mine?"

Jack nods and together they peel open the paper. John watches them fondly. Mycroft watches John.

Sherlock lets out a breath as he pulls out a blue scarf. Jack strokes it. "Thank you," he whispers emotional. "Are you going to thank Mrs. Hudson for your present, Jack?"

The small boy stares at his panda. "Thank you." he whispers, before burying his face in his Pa's chest. Sherlock kisses the top of his head and wraps the scarf around his own neck. " I love it, Mrs. Hudson," he smiles. "Now I just need a good coat to go with it."

"It matches your eyes," grins John and fidgets when everyone stares at him. "I mean, uh, it looks good on you. Suits you. Eyes and cheekbones and all that." he swallows. "I'll shut up now."

Sherlock blinks, confused. Mycroft wears his best Death Threat Glare. Jack hugs his panda.

John squares his shoulders. "Right. Now that I've been appointed your doctor, I'm going to make a change to a few things, starting with your antibiotics. You, Sherlock Holmes, are not going to lose your leg. Not on my watch."


	16. A Nasty Shock

John is leant over a coffee, black, no sugar, hospital brand and quite frankly disgusting. His elbows are resting on the table and he can't make eye contact with anyone in the room. Lestrade is taking notes. Mycroft is gripping his umbrella so tightly his knuckles are white. Only Sherlock is talking. Mike is watching him for any signs, but Sherlock is talking as fast as he can, blurting out words as fast as his brain and mouth will let him. He tells them everything from the beginning, the moment he first woke up aged just sixteen, naked and chained up, unable to move, with a gag in his mouth, his ears covered and blindfolded, only able to feel the hand and body of a woman who molested and raped him over and over again. How he was beaten every time he tried to speak. How for the first three months of his captivity, he was not allowed to talk, scream or make any vocal sounds at all. How he had deduced that she had lost a child as she would try to breast feed him when he behaved well. How he was forced to pleasure her and she would rape him up to twenty times a day…

John leapt out of his chair and ran out towards the men's room but when he got there, he no longer felt sick. He turned around and marched towards Sherlock's room and scoops up a surprised Jack and holds him close.

"Thank you" he whispers, tears rushing down his face. "Thank you for saving your father."

To his surprise, Jack says nothing.

Eventually he puts him down and heads back to the room where Sherlock is being interrogated. Sherlock visibly relaxes as he comes back in and watches as he sits he sits back down. Then he continues with his tale.

It turns out that the room they were kept in had been almost bare before Jack was born. There had only been a toilet, a mattress and a bath in which They would throw him back in when she was finished and throw an ice bucket of cold water over him. After three months they trusted him enough to remove the earplugs, blindfold and chains . At the first chance he got, he tried to escape, but he had been too weak from lack of movement and starvation to fight Them. That's when They put the chain around his ankle and there it remained for thirteen years.

The sexual assaults became less frequent as time moved on and and the Witch became more and more unpredictable and irritable. She would go from frustrated, to patient, to anger, to caring and Sherlock had struggled to deduce her on more than one occasion. He would beg for Mycroft when They weren't there, but his brother had never come.

Mycroft looked as sick as John had felt and made to leave the room, but Sherlock let out such a scream that John nearly dropped dead. Sherlock tries to go after his brother, but his leg stops him and he falls flat on his face. Everyone rushes to help him but Mycroft gets there first and pulls his younger brother onto his lap. Sherlock sobbed like never before and John is relieved that Sherlock is finally letting out all of his pain without Jack there to witness it. Mycroft also had his face hidden and John could hear him whisper "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over again like a mantra.

Lestrade picks up his things and leaves quietly, saying that they would continue the interview at another time. Eventually they get the brothers to separate and Mycroft leaves with such a look of rage on his face that John wouldn't be surprised if the two criminals were found in a ditch somewhere by dawn.

Sherlock sits on the floor in a corner, curled into a ball and trembling, his eyes shut and whimpering. John kneels a safe distance away. Asking him if he's okay is stupid.

"Whenever you're ready." he says instead. They reach out to each other at the same time and grasp hands. Sherlock wipes his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to listen to that. You probably think I'm..."

John snorts. "Idiot." he replies and helps him up. Sherlock walks almost unaided all the way back to Jack and John could almost kiss him. Then he freezes. What the _hell_ is he thinking?

Jack shrieks and runs to his Pa as soon as he sees him; father and son still have trouble being separated from each other. John knows they'll have to take baby steps.

"Your leg is better, Pa", chirps Jack. "I don't like not seeing you. It makes me think of the monsters."

Sherlock clutches the small boy tighter. "The monsters are gone, Jack, remember? The police put Them in jail."

"Did they put the nasty truck in jail too?"

Sherlock lets out a wet choke of a laugh. "The police will have the truck as evidence and then it will be crushed."

Jack looks most satisfied with this answer.

"Lunch?" suggests John.

Both father and son look uneasy. They aren't used to most foods, seeing how little They had been allowed to eat in the vault.

"In the cafeteria," adds John carefully.

Sherlock looks like he'd rather throw himself out the nearest window. "But there will be people."

Nodding, John's face is expressionless. "Yes."

Sherlock swallows. Jack hides his face.

"You'll have to see people sooner or later and sooner is better for Jack," says John, calmly.

Sherlock closes his eyes and John patiently counts to fifty six. "Okay."

"No!" wails Jack. "People have needles and they keep stabbing me and Pa! No!"

"These people will be like us," replies Sherlock, beating John to answering. "They'll be sick people with their families. There may even be other children."

Jack still looks worried and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Sherlock grimaces. John takes him from Sherlock's arms and tickles him. "Come on! It'll be fun."

Jack laughs, breathless. "Okay, I'll try for you and Pa."

They head down in the lift. At the cafeteria there is a choice between a ramp or stairs. Jack stares at the latter. "What are those?"

"Stairs. Do you want to try them out?"

Jack has never tackled stairs before and struggles to put one leg in front of the other. "That's it," encourages Sherlock with a smile. You can do it." He holds Jack securely under his armpits to keep him from falling. "One last step." And Jack reaches the floor. "Yay!" The three of them turn around and stop.

Every person in the room has frozen and is staring at them. Sherlock goes very pale. "John..."

The room bursts into applause and everyone capable of putting two hand together are applauding and cheering. There's whistling and laughter and people are standing and yelling "Well done!" and they're banging their cutlery and…

And Jack is curled on the floor screaming himself hoarse, Sherlock is bent over him yelling something. John does the only thing he can think of and wraps his arms around both of them. Immediately the noise dies down and people start whispering.

"Is Jack all right?

Jack still has his eyes screwed up and his ears covered.

"Jack." says Sherlock. "Jack, it's alright sweetheart, they're good people."

John hears footsteps behind him and turns around. A nurse is bent over them. "Are they okay?"

"Give us a minute."

Jack's head is resting on his Pa's shoulder and is staring around with wide eyes. "The world is so big, Pa."

Sherlock sighs. "You haven't seen half of it."

They make their way to an empty table, ignoring everyone's stares. John sits down. "I'm not hungry." he tells them. "I had lunch before the interview." Although if he'd known what Sherlock had to say, he would have eaten afterwards, remembering how he was nearly sick. "I'm going to sit here and you and Jack are going to get your own food."

Jack starts to cry again. "I want Room. I want Room and Eggsnake and Wardrobe."

Sherlock looks like he might bolt at the first opportunity he gets. "You're not coming?"

"Nope. I can see the woman serving food from here, you'll be right in my line of sight. Off you pop." he makes a shooing motion with his hand.

Sherlock stares at him like a rabbit caught in headlights. "I can't. There are too many people."

"Do you want to leave the hospital or not? Get a move on, we've got a meeting with the lawyer afterwards."

John feels awfully guilty about the look of dread and fright on both their faces, but he knows he has to show them tough love. They walk away, Jack throwing him a look of despair and John gives him an encouraging smile. He knows this won't be quick.

And he's right.

Sherlock picks up a tray, queues, gets to his turn and flees. He and Jack catch their breath and queue up again and again. People stare. One woman starts to laugh and Sherlock bows his head in shame. John's heart clenches. He never wants to see that look on Sherlock's face again. Realizing that this is obviously too difficult, he goes to help them and makes sure to topple the woman's chair as he passes. He takes the tray from Sherlock's hands as the man is too busy blinking back tears. He's surprised to see him.

"What?" asks John, giving him an easy smile that makes his eyes crinkle. "Can't leave my best friend to fend for himself, can I?"

He turns to where the woman serving food is waiting and realizes that Sherlock hasn't followed him. He stares at John like he's grown a second head. "What did you say?"

John blinks. "I said I can't leave my best friend to fend for himself."

Sherlock swallows, runs a hand over his short hair and eyes and clutches Jack tighter. "Best friend?" he whispers.

John gives him a smile that Sherlock memorises onto his 'John Shelf' in his Mind Palace. The Shelf is rather crammed after a mere week and will soon have to be redesigned into a room of itself if John keeps this up. "Of course you are. You're my best friend. Even after just a week. You and Jack are the bravest people I know, and believe me, I know a lot."

Sherlock stares at John like he's the sun. They wait for their turn and look at the choice of food.

"What would you like? Let's start with Jack."

Jack looks alarmed. "Where are the eggs and baked beans?"

John ruffles his hair, which Jack still refuses to have cut. "Sorry, Jack, no more eggs and beans for you now. You need to eat real food. Can you see anything you like the look of?"

Jack nibbles his finger. "There are lots of colours."

"Indeed there are. Any colours you would like to try?"

Jack continues to chew on his finger for a few minutes. Luckily, the person serving them is patient, as are the people whispering excitedly behind them.

"Yellow like the sun." He says at last.

"Sweetcorn," translates John. "Anything else?"

"Purple like pansies."

"Beetroot."

"Green like grass."

"Peas too please. Now you have to choose meat to go with it."

Jack beams. "We had ham just once as a special treat!"

John grins. "What did you do to get a special treat?"

"Pa asked Them and Old Magnussen brought it for us!"

John turns to Sherlock to ask how that happened and is sickened by the look on Sherlock's face. Perhaps he'd better not ask if he wants to keep his lunch in his stomach. He'd already heard enough horrors that had happened to Sherlock today. "We'd also like some ham please." He was greatful that Mycroft had insisted Sherlock and Jack get better food to catch up on lost years of healthy food.

Jack's plate is well proportioned for a small boy who has a lot of growing to do. He bounces around for joy and Sherlock struggles to hold him. "Now you, Pa! Now you!"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I'm not very hungry."

Before anyone can say anything, Jack snorts. "That's stupid, Pa! You gave me all of your breakfast this morning and you always give me more than half your food."

The game was up. John and the other doctors had been wondering about Sherlock's diet and now the continuing weight loss made even more sense. "So that's why you've lost even more weight." says John crisply, his face calm. But Sherlock knows calm faces. They hide fury and lash out unexpectedly. He shrinks backwards, guilty and nervous. John sighs, exasperated. "We'll talk about this later."

Sherlock takes the same as Jack and they head back to their table. Jack makes a face at each new food before deciding that he likes it. John watches Sherlock like a hawk to make sure nothing gets passed to Jack or dropped under the table. Sherlock eats it like it will kill him and eventually they finish, the rest of the cafeteria devoid of life. They head back to their room. When they arrive, John says to Jack, "Why don't you go and play with Panda while I have a chat with your Pa?"

Jack totters away. John rounds on Sherlock. "Explain to me why you're not eating. _Now_."

Stammering, Sherlock tries to put some distance between them. "I..."

John rubs a hand over his face. "You are severely underweight, if you do not eat you will die! And then Jack will be all alone!"

Sherlock struggles to speak. "I know, but you don't understand..."

John loses his temper. "For the love of god, you need to eat! You're wasting away in front of everyone's eyes and it's killing me! Let us help you! LET ME HELP YOU!"

Sherlock has shrunk back alarmed. "You can't help me! You can't help us!"

"WHY THE HELL NOT?"

"Because They'll hurt Jack!"

This throws John completely. "Who will?"

"They will! The Monsters! They'll come back into this filthy Room and hurt my boy! I swore I would protect him as long as there is breath in my body! That's what I'm doing! The longer it keeps Jack away from Their attention, the longer I"ll do it! If you don't like it, go be somebody else's imaginary friend!"

Sherlock is shaking. John is analysing every word he has just told him. Mike has also walked into the room and heard Sherlock's rant. Then John swallows.

"PTSD," he says to Mike.

"Well of course," says Mike, "Of course he has PTSD, he's been through..."

"No," says John, cutting him off. "Ask Sherlock to describe his surroundings to you. Go on."

Mike gives him a bewildered look, but does as he's told. "Sherlock, tell me what you can see."

The man snorts. "What I've always seen." He snaps. "There's a bath over there in the corner. The bed is up against the other wall. The end of my chain is attached to the wall at the foot of the bed. There is a wardrobe next to the bed and in front of that there is a table with two chairs..."

"Oh shit," says Mike.

John swallows. "Sherlock, do you know who I am?"

Sherlock turns his verdigris eyes on him. "Of course; you're John. I made you up."

John feels as though someone has punched him in the face. Or stabbed a knife through his heart. "I'm real Sherlock." He whispers.

The younger man shakes his head. "Don't say that," he begs. "They always come back when people like you say that. I make you up and then you go away. Don't leave me alone with Them. Jack's too young."

Mike presses the emergency button, realizing that Sherlock is about to have a full blown panic attack. "Do you recognize that little boy over there? Is that Jack?"

Sherlock stares at his son. "No," he says, "That's not Jack. My son is only six months old." he stops and looks around. "Where is he?" he demands. "What have you done with my boy?"

He glares at John, who approaches him carefully. "I'm your best friend, remember?"

Sherlock snarls. "I'm not giving you any more children you bitch. You shouldn't have come here alone." He lunges for John's throat.

Someone is trying to wake him up. John listens to the voice and obeys when they ask him to open his eyes. Mike smiles tightly down at him.

"Thank god. I thought you were never going to regain consciousness. Sherlock can certainly do some damage, even with that skinny frame of his."

John groans and coughs. His windpipe feels like it's been crushed. "What happened?" he croaks.

"Sherlock went nuts. It took six nurses to hold him down. Jack's pretty shaken up. You've been out for a couple of hours. We're doing blood tests on Sherlock now to see what could have possibly turned him into the hulk. He seemed to mistake you for one of his abusers. Almost snapped your neck."

John knows he should feel embarrassment about this since he is a soldier who was trained in hand to hand combat. However his concern lies with Sherlock's well being. He sits up and ignores the dizziness. "Where is he now?"

"In an isolation room. We had to strap him down."

John sees red. "You've done _what_? Take me to him now."

"John..."

"Now!"

Mike sighs and pulls John to his feet. They walk down the corridor, dread snaking its way through John's innards. He fights motion sickness and they arrive at a door without a window. He peers through and his heart plummets.

The room must be soundproof because Sherlock is laying on a bed, his mouth open, screaming, tugging desperately at his restraints. He looks so frightened, yet there is a hint of rage in him that makes John shiver and rub his bruised throat. He'll never underestimate him again.

"You said you were running blood tests?"

"Yes. We'll have the results back within the hour."

John almost says _That quickly?_ But then he remembers that he's been unconscious for a while, so the doctors would have had plenty of time.

"I want to try something." he says and walks into the room before Mike can stop him. "Hello Sherlock."

His mouth clicks shut and his wild eyes focus on John.

"Are you hungry, Sherlock? It's been a while since you've eaten."

"No." He licks his lips, desperate.

"Why?" asks John, still rubbing his sore neck.

"Don't be stupid, Magnussen. You know why. Those are your rules. You'll take Jack away if I eat." He squirms. "Will you please take the crocodile away? It's trying to bite my toes."

John faces Mike. They share a glance of confusion and shock.

"I think," says Mike, eventually, "that someone has drugged him. The blood test results will hopefully confirm that. Otherwise, I'm going to have to lock him in the psychiatric ward."

John nods, only half listening. "Sherlock, we're going to get you out of this hospital as soon as we can. We'll go and live with Mrs. Hudson. No one will harm you or Jack there."

Sherlock suddenly smiles, like someone has flipped a coin. "Have you seen Jack? You'd love to meet him, he's wonderful."

John nods encouragingly. "Yes, he is. But first you have to eat. Then you can see him."

Sherlock scowls. "Those aren't the rules."

John tries very hard not to be sick. "Well, it is now. Once you've eaten, you will see Jack. Understand?"

Sherlock nods, afraid.

Since it's obvious he struggles with solid food, that bring mashed vegetables and soup. For some reason, Sherlock only trusts John, so everyone leaves and John feeds a still slightly delirious Sherlock, mouthful after mouthful, until Sherlock swears he can't eat anymore. John is so proud of him. He takes the empty plates away and returns to a a Sherlock who is blinking sluggishly.

"John?" He slurs. "W'appened?"

John rushes to him, glad to have his friend back. "Someone has drugged you. You had a panic attack and went wild. Do you remember?"

Sherlock isn't listening. He's suddenly noticed his predicament and is tugging at his restraints. "John! Help!"

John grabs Sherlock's face and presses their foreheads together. The moment feels incredibly intimate. "Calm. Stay calm. I'll remove them, alright? But you have to promise not to move."

Sherlock nods hard, almost bashing his head against the wall. "Okay."

"Say _I promise."_

"I PROMISE!"

John works at the restraints. Someone pulls at his arm and tells him to stop but he shrugs them off. Soon Sherlock is free and they hug tightly. John is careful and swallows with difficulty.

Sherlock stares at the bruises. "Did I do that?" He whispers, horrified. "I'm a monster, just like Them."

"No," says Mike walking into the room and reading a sheet of paper. "Someone drugged you, we found an unknown compound in your system. Your brother is setting up security measures as we speak."

Sherlock doesn't look reassured. "I want to leave now."

"Tomorrow."

"Now."

"The lawyer..."

"Damn the lawyer!"

"SHERLOCK!" barks John and feels awful at Sherlock's frightened flinch. "You've just had a psychotic episode. You should be grateful Mike is releasing you tomorrow. Although I wouldn't be surprised if your brother has something to do with that. But you're going to get regular visits from him. Jack is going to see a proper child's psychiatrist."

Sherlock growls. "For the fifteenth fucking time, there is nothing wrong with Jack."

John has never heard him curse before. "I'll go and bring Jack to you."

A few minutes later he returns with a very scared boy. Sherlock sits up. "Jack!"

But Jack won't look at him. Sherlock looks confused. "Jack?"

The boy begins to struggle. "No! I don't want to see him! That's not Pa!"

Mike pales. "Oh god, he may have been drugged too..."

"You hurt the Somebody! You made him go to sleep and you were shouting horrible things! I don't want you!"

Heartbroken is the only word to describe Sherlock. But he reaches out anyway and John gently deposits a squirming child in his arms. But Jack calms immediately and hugs him. The room is silent. John sighs in relief and Jack sniffs loudly. All is well.


	17. 221 B Baker Street

_"Jack, wake up, wake up!"_

 _I open my eyes and blink hard. I'm still not used to the brightness. The nice doctor said it would take some time, even for Pa. I had fallen asleep against Pa, leaning on his chest. I yawn loudly and Pa groans because it makes him yawn too._

 _We're all in a big black car that belongs to uncle Mycroft. He's twirling his umbrella and smiles. He doesn't smile with his mouth, because he only does that when he's being creepy, but with the gentle spinning motion of his hands. John looks uncomfortable and is relieved when the car stops. But that's when we notice the large crowds outside holding banners and screaming. I whimper and cover my ears. I don't like loud noises and people._

 _Pa is shouting at uncle Mycroft. "Why don't your people have this under control?"_

 _Mycroft talks in his phone. John shouts: "Just grab him and run!" And Pa picks me up._

 _"Hide your face against my neck," orders Pa, "Don't let them see your face." I do as I'm told._

 _Pa undoes my seatbelt and I'm pulled out of my booster seat. Then I feel Pa running and I really want to look but Pa said no. A person shouts: "I love you, Jack!" and then a door slams and everything is quieter._

 _Pa puts me down. My legs are shaking. He bends down and pulls off my scarf. "Are you alright?"_

 _I nod. Pa is okay too. He can bend down now without his leg hurting him. He sighs and presses his forehead against mine. His breath smells like toothpaste. We stay like that on the floor while people move around us. Then I hear her voice._

 _"Oh boys, you're here, you're finally home!"_

 _Pa still has his eyes shut, but he smiles. "Hello, Mrs. Hudson."_

 _"I was so worried, with all the press outside. The police have told me to keep my curtains shut."_

 _Pa bows his head. "I'm so sorry, I didn't want to put you through all of this."_

 _"Nonsense, you silly thing, nonsense. Let's go up to see your flat. I've prepared everything for you."_

 _I sniff like a wolf on the hunt on TV. "I smell food!"_

 _Mrs. Hudson smiles. "I hope you like roast dinner, Jack, because that's what we're having!"_

 _Pa squirms again. "There really was no need."_

 _"Come upstairs, I've sorted everything out!"_

 _We go up the stairs. It's very hard because my legs are very little, so I use my hands to crawl. There are seventeen steps, I counted them, every single one. We arrive in a room and there's a fire. Pa quickly tells me not to panic because it's a fire place and it's supposed to be there to keep us warm and that we won't burn. There are chairs and I run to each one to check their bounciness. It's very important. I flop onto a long chair against the wall called a sofa. I think it's a good place to go to my Mind Palace. I watch as John sits in the black chair and Pa sits on the red one with the blanket and the red white and blue cushion. Mrs. Hudson giggles as we both watch them wriggle and try to get comfortable before they stare at each other and swap. They both sigh at the same time._

 _"Oh, you two," laughs Mrs. Hudson. "I think you'll both get along well. Now ignore the armchairs and come and sit at the table, before your meal goes cold."_

 _"There's so much colour!" I tell John. "Room and the hospital were very… white._

 _Pa hums in agreement, and John and Mrs. Hudson look sad. Why are they sad? Pa is safe and there's a warm fire and soft chairs, softer than anything I've ever felt asides from Pa's tee-shirts in Room. We make our way to the kitchen. Pa stops and points at the animal's head on the wall._

 _"We'll put headphones on it later, that way it won't get bored." I don't understand, so I just nod._

 _I see the biggest meal I've ever seen! John laughs and tells Mrs. Hudson that she's spoiling us. She waves him off. Pa puts cushions on my chair so I can see the table better. There are those funny things called potatoes and I recognize the peas and carrots. The chicken looks strange and I poke it with my fork._

 _"If chickens lay eggs, why do we eat them?" I ask Pa._

 _"Because we do lots of silly things. I'll show you a picture of a real chicken in a minute on my new phone that Mycroft got me."_

 _Pa helps me cut my food. Carrots taste orange and peas taste green and the chicken tastes nice. Pa pokes at his food until the Somebody reaches over the table and gently holds his hands. Pa starts to breathe strangely. Mrs. Hudson looks at me and winks. I don't understand. She mouths 'I'll explain later.' Pa taught me to read lips._

 _Gravy is poured all over our meals. It tastes nice with the potatoes. Pa says I have to eat with my mouth closed because I need to use my good manners in front of other people. But that's stupid. Pa has always said manners are boring. I tell him so and John laughs. Mrs. Hudson tuts and wags her finger at us, but she doesn't stop smiling._

 _I'm still afraid. I'm scared the Monsters will find me and Pa and hurt him again. His bruises have almost gone, but when I close my eyes they are still there._

 _I try lots of new foods. At first, I don't like any of them, but Pa tells me to try more than once. He won't let Mrs. Hudson give me coca cola. He says it's bad, but not bad like poison. So she finds a fruit called an Orange, which is funny because it is orange and she makes fresh orange juice. I like it because it has bits in it. Soon all our plates are clean, except for Pa's._

 _John squeezes his hand again. "Come on, you can do it."_

 _Pa grips my leg so tightly it hurts. "There's too much.' He squeezes his eyes shut._

 _"Just try, please."_

 _I watch as he takes small and slow bites from his plate. He doesn't look very well and won't look at me. Mrs. Hudson starts to clear the table and I get up to help. She's surprised but I tell her I always cleared the table in Room. She pats me on the head and tells me I'm a wonderful boy, so I hug her leg because I can't reach much higher. When we've finished, Pa is sat in front of the telly and stares at the screen without blinking. John takes his suitcase up to his own room and someone knocks at the door. I run to Pa for protection, but it's only uncle Mycroft._

888

Sherlock watches his brother who has arrived accompanied by a few people and Anthea carrying boxes. He remains seated. "What's all this?"

"All your things. I've brought them from the house. Everything was kept when you were kidnapped. I had to convince Mummy not to sell your violin."

As he says this, a nameless man walks in holding a violin case with care. Sherlock swallows and his eyes well up, memories of sitting in the Vault, his eyes closed with his hands in the air, desperate to remember every note and every detail of his violin and the music he had spent hours composing alone, locked away in his bedroom, trying to avoid upsetting his childhood chemistry set. He rises from his chair slowly. "Is that… that is..."

"Your Stradivarius, yes."

Now it's John's turn to stare. "Are you serious? Oh my god, those things are so rare!"

Sherlock flips open the case and Jack clambers over him to peer inside. Inside is the violin, exactly as he remembered it thirteen years ago. He bats his son's fingers away and closes the case, fingers trembling slightly. "what else have you brought?"

"All your school books, toys, pirate outfit for Jack, journals, everything that was yours. Including what you asked for." He holds out a large envelope.

Snatching it from his brother's hands, he rips it open and admires the contents inside. "Jack, look what uncle Mycroft got for you!"

He holds out a sheet of paper at arms length and Jack reads the contents. "It says my name and birthday!"

"It's a birth certificate." Sherlock cups his son's face. "I wanted you to have one. Now everyone knows you exist."

"I'm real in the real world?"

"As real as John and uncle Mycroft. And Mrs. Hudson of course."

"Are you real?"

Sherlock swallows. "Maybe. Soon."

Jack doesn't understand what that means exactly. Maybe his Pa was trapped for too long to belong in the real world now. It's a good thing he will always be there for his Pa. He hugs his leg and looks up at John as he approaches them smiling.

888

Mycroft Holmes returns to his office an hour later. He sits behind his desk and his eyes fall to the photograph of a 9 year old Sherlock in the pirate's outfit he intends to see Jack wear one day. He wonders if he's getting sentimental as he considers putting a photo of his nephew next to the one of his brother.

"Sentimental old fool," he mutters, allowing himself the tiniest smile.

Anthea walks in and hands over the next days workload. Mycroft rolls his shoulders carefully and immediately concentrates on his duties.

Anthea, however, does not immediately leave. "Sir?"

He looks up. "What is it?"

"I know you did not look at the birth certificate, sir. You did not open it before your brother, not what he requested to be written on your nephew's certificate."

A lone eyebrow crawls up his forehead. "Your point, if you please?"

She hands him an envelope, the word 'copy' on the front and he sighs. She leaves before he can stop her.

Unable to resist, he opens the envelope, and pulls it out; he already knows what it will say.

Then he looks at it.

JACK MYCROFT HOLMES

For the first time since his brother went missing, he covers his face with his hands and weeps.


End file.
